"It's a tunnel," said Harry.
I nodded, forgetting he could not see me. "Shall we take it?"
"Anything on a chance," he answered, and we entered the passage.
It was quite narrow--so narrow that we were forced to advance
very slowly, feeling our way to avoid colliding with the walls.
The ground was strewn with fragments of rock, and a hasty step
meant an almost certain fall and a bruised shin. It was tedious
work and incredibly fatiguing.
We had not rested a sufficient length of time to allow our bodies
to recuperate from the struggle with the torrent; also, we began
to feel the want of food. Harry was the first to falter, but I
spurred him on. Then he stumbled and fell and lay still.
"Are you hurt?" I asked anxiously, bending over him.
"No," was the answer. "But I'm tired--tired to death--and I want
to sleep."
I was tempted myself, but I brought him to his feet, from some
impulse I know not what. For what was the use? One spot was as
good as another. However, we struggled on.
Another hour and the passage broadened into a clearing. At least
so it seemed; the walls abruptly parted to the right and left.
And still the impenetrable, maddening darkness and awful silence!
We gave it up; we could go no farther.
Pages:
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106