"It ain't thet so much, lad, it's the torches—they won't last forever."
All gazed at the lights and saw that the old miner was right. The first ones they had lit had burnt out and the remaining lot were more than half consumed.
Without further words they turned around, in an endeavor to retrace their steps to the point where they had made a false turn. Abe Blower led the way and the boys followed, all keeping their eyes wide open, to make certain that nothing of importance might escape them.
On and on they went, seeing one spot after another that looked familiar. They even passed the spot where Dave had thrown away the end of his first torch. The bit of wood was still smoking.
"Here's the split in the cave, I think," said the old miner, at last.
They had reached a spot where the cavern widened out into a large, circular opening. From this point could be seen several other openings. Evidently they had taken the wrong passageway.
"But which is the right one?" questioned Roger. "They all look alike to me."
"Look putty much alike to me, too," returned Abe Blower. "If only I had thought to put down a few chalk marks!" he sighed.
Dave said nothing but went around to the various openings, examining all with care by the light of his torch.
"I believe this is the one we came in by," he announced, a few minutes later.