"That emboldens me to another suggestion," says she. "As we have not been rowing for many hours, it may be that we have drifted again into a current, so do let us rest as patiently as we can doing nothing."
I agreed to this, and we passed an interminable time, as it seemed, as best we might; but, truly, no hours ever spent in that dear soul's company were ever so tedious or weary. For, as I say, we had no means of telling whether we were moving or standing still; but lay there, seeing nothing, hearing no sound, feeling no motion, and in a state of uncertainty and dread of unknown possibilities that was enough to drive one to a frenzy.
And so we lay or drifted (I know not which) for a time that seemed to have no end. Once or twice we made a pretense of being hungered, though, Lord knows, 'twas pain to swallow a morsel for our vast terror; and sometimes we made as if we would go to sleep a while, but could never close our eyes for blinking at the darkness in hope of seeing some sign of light; and from time to time we burned a fire-nut, but without perceiving any change at all in our condition.
But at length, when we were beginning to talk of the advisability of rowing again, for we were as blind to our position as ever, to our unspeakable joy we felt the cane fender of the canoe grinding against the rocks, and before I could get a light to see where we were, my lady cried aloud with joy:
"Look, dear Benet—look up there!"
And casting my eyes round, without knowing whither she pointed, I presently spied a bright star; and the next moment the whole starry firmament was revealed.
Thus did we come out of that wondrous cavern in the night, having gone into it in early morning; but whether we had been therein one day or three we could never make out.