“It is a window in the cavern,” said Little Rifle, “and we are looking through into the world above us. Let us draw aside to the side of the cavern, where we can rest and look up at the hole without stretching our necks so.”
That which had caught their eyes was simply daylight, looking dim, pale and weird as it penetrated into the gloom of the cavern.
“Well, that is something,” said Harry; “we can take a peep at daylight when we get tired of darkness, and can keep track of the passing days and nights, if we have got to live the life of a hermit, for some weeks or months.”
Little Rifle, greatly wearied with their uncommon exertions, now stretched out in an easy position, with his head leaning upon his elbow, and looking up at the opening for several minutes, as if to think out some mode of escape to the upper world.
They had lain down in their chosen nook but a short time, when it became evident that the light overhead was slowly growing paler and dimmer. This of course they attributed to the departure of daylight and the coming of night. It continued steadily to fade, until it vanished from view altogether, and then they knew that darkness reigned above and below alike.
Tired and wearied as were the lads, it was not long before they felt a drowsiness stealing over them, against which neither made any struggle. Both lying there felt how great was their dependence upon Heaven to bring them out of their almost hopeless difficulty, and with a prayer for the protection and guidance of their Heavenly Father, both sunk off into a soft, refreshing slumber.
The training and life of Little Rifle made his sleep always light, although it was as refreshing as nature intended, and so it came about that he had remained unconscious but a short time, when he opened his eyes, with the certainty that something from without had occurred to cause him to do so.
Without moving from his position, he raised his head and listened.
Nothing but the dull, hollow roar of the cavern filled his ears, and that was like the very depth of silence itself. Not even the soft rustling of the night-wind among the trees far above his head could be detected.
Applying his ear to the earth he instantly heard a regular tip, tap, tip, tap, as if made by the dropping of water, but which a moment’s listening satisfied him was produced by another cause.