"Say, Frank, the air feels wet!" shouted Bob, while the racket was at its height.
Of course this was no special news to Frank. He, too, had noticed the same thing, and mentally commented on it. And as it was in line with certain suspicions which he already entertained, he had felt amply repaid for taking such hazards in plunging into that black cave.
Then suddenly an extra strong blast put the torch out.
"Wow! there she goes, Frank! What will we do now?" yelled Bob, of course feeling a new uneasiness because of the intense darkness, the presence of an angry animal near by, and the general air of mystery that hung over the scene.
"Nothing. Just wait till the storm blows by; and then we'll light up again," was what Frank shouted back at him.
Already it was diminishing. Like the receding waves of the great ocean the uproar died down, growing fainter with each pulsation.
And finally there came again the silence that in one way was almost as dreadful as the clamor; during which Frank proceeded to light the torch again, though not without some difficulty.
"Frank, you felt that wet sensation, like fine spray, didn't you?" demanded Bob, as soon as he could speak with comfort. "Why, touch your face right now; and you'll find it moist. Whatever can it mean?"
"I think I know," Frank said, slowly. "I suspected it before, and this seems to make it look more than ever that way."
"Do you mean that you've guessed what makes all that frightful noise?" asked Bob, astonished.