“Don’t bother about the oars,” said Bob, his voice echoing from the walls of the passage. “It’s too dark for ’em. Try to get a hold on the roof.”
It was some moments before their combined efforts to clutch the rocky roof of the tunnel succeeded sufficiently to bring their boat under control.
“Better not let go one hand till you get another hold!” cautioned Jerry. “It’s mighty slippery.”
Foot by foot they made their way through the tunnel of dread. Cold fear clutched at the heart of each boy, for any moment disaster might come in one of a hundred ways—and they couldn’t see it coming!
For a time all went well, but soon Jerry said in a whisper—somehow the dark made him whisper rather than speak aloud—“I can’t touch the roof any more, can you?”
“No, but it’s all right,” said Bob as cheerfully as he could. “We’ll just have to trust to luck. Sit down and let her rip!”
They slid noiselessly through the impenetrable darkness with only the murmur of the water to break the stillness. The very quietness added a terror of its own. There was no way of telling how fast they were going. They could not see the water and only the rush of cold air against their faces told them they were moving at all.
“Wonder how much longer it’ll be,” whispered Bob, forcing a little laugh. “Seems like we’ve gone miles!”
“I’ve got beyond wondering how far we’ve got to go,” said Jerry fervently. “I just want something to happen. Anything at all would be better than just sitting helpless.”
After this attempt at conversation each boy relapsed into his own gloomy thoughts. These were suddenly disturbed, however, for Jerry called out, a note of hope in his voice, “I think I see light ahead!”