“Gale,” Phyllis said hysterically, “I can’t stand it! I can’t! If we don’t find the entrance soon, I’ll----”
Gale shook her sternly. “Phyllis! Pull yourself together! Don’t you see, that is just what he is trying to do, get us rattled? Of course we’ll find the entrance. We’ve got to, but for goodness sake don’t go to pieces now. Wait until we get back to camp and then we’ll scream and tear our hair.”
The picture of the two of them screaming and tearing their hair was a little too much for Phyllis’ sense of humor and she laughed jerkily.
“It wouldn’t be so bad,” she said, Gale’s arm about her shoulders, “if Relentless Rudolph would stop laughing.”
“That’s a good name for him,” Gale smiled.
They stood together in the darkness, trying to fathom a way out of their predicament.
“Gale, do you suppose----” Phyllis began.
“What?” her friend encouraged.
“This sort of thing was what your uncle was thinking of when he gave us those revolvers?”