_ CHAPTER TWENTY SIX. TO THE BITTER END
If ever an awful silence fell upon two unfortunate beings, it was upon those lads, deep down in the strange mazes of the ancient mine. For some moments neither could speak, but each stood gazing at his companion, with the two shadows strangely mingled upon the rugged, faintly-glittering wall.
Joe was the first to speak again, for his passionately-uttered question was not answered.
"He warned us to beware of the holes and places, and he must have slipped down one."
"Not he," said Gwyn, bitterly, as he stood scowling into the darkness. "He warned us when he was making up his mind to hang back and leave us. A miserable coward!"
"You think that?"
"I'm sure of it. A sneak! A miserable hound! Oh, how could anyone who calls himself a man act like this!"
"Perhaps he is close at hand after all. Let's try," cried Joe, and he uttered a long piercing hail, again and again, but with no other result than to raise the solemn echoes, which sounded awe-inspiring, and so startling, that the lad ceased, and gazed piteously at his companion.
"Feel scared, Joe?" said Gwyn at last.
Joe nodded.
"So do I. It's very cowardly, of course, but the place is so creepy and strange."
"Yes; let's get back. We can't do any more, can we?"
Gwyn made no reply, but stood with his brows knit, staring straight before him into the darkness beyond the dim halo cast by the lanthorn.
"Why don't you speak? Say something," cried Joe, half hysterically; but, though Gwyn's lips moved, no sounds came. "Gwyn!" cried Joe again, "say something. What's the good of us two being mates if we don't try to help each other?"
"I was trying to help you," said Gwyn at last, in a strange voice he hardly knew as his own; "but I was thinking so much I couldn't speak--I couldn't get out a word."
"Well, think aloud. Keep talking, or I shall go mad."
"With fright?" said Gwyn, slowly.
"I don't know what it is, but I feel as if I can't bear it. Say something."
"Well, that's just how I feel, and I want to get over it, but I can't."
There was another pause, and then, as if in a rage with himself, Gwyn burst out,--
"We're not babies just woke up in the dark, and ready to call for our mothers to help us."
"I called for mine to help me, though you could not hear," said Joe, simply; and his words sounded so strangely impressive that Gwyn uttered a sound like a gasp.
"What is there to be afraid of?" he cried passionately. "We ought to be savagely angry, and ready to feel that we could half kill that cowardly hound for forsaking us like this. I know what you feel, Joe; that we must hurry back as fast as we can to the foot of the shaft, and shout to them to haul us out."
"But do you really think Tom Dinass has sneaked away?"
"I'm sure he has, out of spite because he was forced to come; and when we got back he would be one of the first to grin and sneer at us. I want to run back as fast as I can, but you'll stand by me, won't you?"
"Of course I will."
"I know that, old chap. Well, what did we come for?"
"You know; to try and find them."
"Yes, and I'm getting better now. I couldn't help feeling scared. We're alone here, but we won't give up. We've got to find them somehow, and we will. I sha'n't turn back, for mother's sake. How could I go and tell her I came down to try and find them, and was afraid to go on in the dark!"
"Do you mean it?" said Joe, whose face was of a ghastly white.
"Yes; and you won't turn like you did on the ladder?"
"No."
"There was something to be afraid of then, but there isn't now."
"No," said Joe, with a gasp.
"We've got a light and can avoid any pit-holes; the water has all been pumped out, and there are only the pools we passed here and there. Nothing can hurt us here, for the roof won't fall; it's too strong, cut all through the rock as it is."
"Yes, but if we go on and lose ourselves as they have done--"
"Well, we must find our way again; and if we can't we must wait till somebody comes."
"Here! Alone?"
"We sha'n't be alone, because we're together."
"But do you think anyone would come?"
"Do you think all those men would stop hanging about the mouth, knowing we're lost, and not come and help us? I don't."
"No. Englishmen wouldn't do that," said Joe, slowly. "Let's go on. I'm not so scared now, but it is very horrible and lonely. Suppose the light went out."
"Well, we'd strike a match, and start another candle."
"Ah, you've got some matches then?"
"Yes; a whole box. No, I haven't; not one."
"Ydoll!" cried Joe in a despairing voice.
"But we've got plenty of candles, and we'll take care to keep them alight. Now then, if we stand still we shall lose heart again. Ready?"
"Yes."
"Come on, then;" and, setting his teeth and holding the lanthorn well above his eyes, Gwyn led the way further into the solemn darkness of the newly dried-out mine. _