"But we shouldn't have any castles there to see," said Ned.
At last they found an iron pot, and resolved to build a fire in that, and carry it as a torch.
While they were breaking up pieces of dry wood for that purpose, Ned exclaimed, "Who knows but olive wood will burn well. I should think it would be full of oil."
"Perhaps it will."
They broke some branches from the trees, and put them in the pot with pine slivers from old panels. Walter took a horn full of tinder from his pack, and, holding it between his knees, with an old file and flint-stone struck the sparks into the horn till he ignited the tinder sufficiently to light a brimstone match, and kindled his fire in the pot, when they found that the olive wood burned freely, lasted longer, and afforded a better light, than the pine or oak; therefore they procured more of it.
"Now for something to carry it with," said Ned; "and here it is," pulling a long iron rod from the pile of miscellaneous articles that strewed the floor.
"And here is something to hold a supply of wood," said Walter, picking up a steel helmet and filling it with the chips.
With the kettle of blazing brands between them, they proceeded to explore the passage.
The first object that arrested their attention (and almost touching a door, through the grates of which a fresh current of air, fragrant with the scent of the earth and fields, was blowing) was the skeleton of an aged man. The skull had been cleft by some sharp weapon; long locks of gray hair strewed the floor, and across the breast of the skeleton lay that of a dog, the fore paws outstretched, and the nose thrust among the clothes that covered the breast.
"O, Walter," cried Ned, the tears springing to his eyes, "what a sight!"