"I'm all to the good," remarked Bobolink; "because, you see, we want to know what sort of a joint we've got here; and if there's any front door to the same. We just sort of fell in at the back entrance; which I take it was hardly the proper thing for decent fellers to do. Skidoo, Paul; we're on your track!"
For some little time after that they found nothing of interest. The passage kept winding in and out, in a way that was "some confusing," as Bobolink said. And since there were other passages branching off the main stem Paul thought it wise to bring his red chalk into play.
Accordingly, he marked an arrow that always pointed along the right channel, and was calculated to lead them back to where the balance of the troop was quartered.
"That's a cinch!" was the way Bobolink greeted this action; and indeed it seemed that no one could possibly miss the route with such a guide at hand.
But they had forgotten that light was absolutely necessary in order to tell the way these arrows pointed. Pretty soon Jack awoke to the fact that they no longer seemed able to pick up small pieces of wood which could be used as torches.
"And our supply has nearly run out, too," he added, holding up only one more piece.
"That looks serious," said Paul; "and perhaps
after all our smartness we're going to get lost in the dark. How many matches in the crowd?"
A hasty search revealed the act that all told they could only muster nine; for they had been using quite a number.