When that was burned out he could not escape the dreadful darkness that would close over him.
But the broken knife—the only tool with which he could work was useless!
He dropped in a sitting posture on the ground and covered his distorted, terror-drawn face with his hands. For some time he sat thus, without moving, without making a sound.
The silence was broken by a pattering sound like hail. He lowered his hands and saw that earth was still falling from the hole he had made. It came in little starts and spurts.
The captive of the cave sprang up once more. He thrust both arms up into that hole and tore with his fingers. This he continued until the nails were worn away to the quick and his hands were cut and sticky with blood and dirt.
Finally he stopped from sheer exhaustion. Even his frantic energy was beginning to fail.
Then he heard something like a soft movement above him. He rolled his eyes upward and beheld the roof of the cave directly above him moving the least bit. At first he thought this movement was not actually taking place, but that he imagined it.
Only an instant; then he saw that a part of the roof was settling and seemed about to fall.
He leaped backward to escape from beneath it.
Barely in time.