Which showed what a footling state of mind Morris had got into.
Presently I sneezed and he said of corse that it was the beginning of pewmonia. Then he asked for a match to see the time and it was six minutes past ten. Then I shouted again at the cavern entrance without result.
He kept on asking for matches to see the time until there were only five left, and I said we must keep these for immergencies, and he said he supposed we must.
At last he went into a sort of sleep after shedding some teers and pretending it was a cold in his head. Then I lighted a cigaret and found much to my supprise that I was beginning to feal queer myself with a new sort of queerness quite new to me.
I woke Morris and told him that I was sorry to say I was ill; and he said he was undoubtedly very ill too and had been dreeming of his mother, which he only did when frightfully ill. He also asked me if I believed in ghosts and I said I thort I did. And he said he always did.
There were some awfully strange noises happening outside at this time, and I sakrificed another match and found it was neerly one o'clock. Then we went to the mouth of the cavern and listened to a peculiar creepy sound far off. The rain had stopped and a sloppy looking moon was coming up. Morris shivered.
"That might be the mournful yell of some wretched ghost," he said.
"It's owels," I said, but he did not think so. He thort it was too miserable for owels.
It came neerer and certainly was not owels.
Then a thort struck me.