Both paused in their groping, and listened, but could hear nothing.
“What do you mean?” asked Harry in a whisper. “What was it?”
“I stopped to find out whether we can hear the falls; do you catch the sound?”
“I think I hear their roar—very faint it is true—but distinct for all that.”
“It may be the ringing in our ears, that comes from our having been so stunned by them. And then you know there is always a dull hollow sound that seems to belong to such places.”
“By jingo! Little Rifle, you scare a fellow. Are you in earnest?”
“I don’t want to scare you any more than I have to, but you are brave enough to face danger when it must be faced, and it’s my opinion that neither of us can catch the slightest sound of the waterfall to guide us back again.”
“Or in other words, we are lost in the cavern. Is that what you mean?”
“I will hardly say that, just yet, although I think the chances are that way. If you have ever tried to find your way, when there wasn’t any moon or stars, you know how hard work it is. I have been dozens of miles away from Uncle Ruff, when night has come, and you know I have traveled the woods and mountains enough to know something about them, and the best thing I was able to do at such times, was to camp out and wait for daylight. Sometimes I have roosted in a tree and sometimes have crawled in among the rocks. If we are going to find our way out of here, I can tell you, Harry, that we have got to keep our wits about us.”
“That’s just what I want to do,” replied his friend, in lugubrious voice, “but it’s mighty hard work for a fellow to keep his head clear, when he hears such talk as that.”