Half walking, half crawling, we went forward.
The place where we had found ourselves was a jumbled mass of
boulders and broken rock, but we soon discovered a passage, level
and straight as any tunnel built by man.
Down this we made our way. Every few feet we stopped to rest.
Neither of us spoke a word. I really had no sense of any purpose
in our progress; I crept on exactly as some animals, wounded to
death, move on and on until there is no longer strength for
another step, when they lie down for the final breath.
We saw no water nor promise of any; nothing save the long stretch
of dim vista ahead and the grim, black walls on either side.
That, I think, for hours; it seemed to me then for years.
I dragged one leg after the other with infinite effort and pain;
Harry was ahead, and sometimes, glancing back over his shoulder
to find me at some distance behind, he would turn over and lie on
his back till I approached. Then again to his knees and again
forward. Neither of us spoke.
Suddenly, at a great distance down the passage, much further than
I had been able to see before, I saw what appeared to be a white
wall extending directly across our path.
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