But I had no time to think of this now, for the thought that perhaps Shock was killed, suffocated, came over me with terrible force, and I bent over him, feeling his face, his heart, and hands.
His heart was beating fast, and his hands were warm, but though I spoke to him over and over again, in the darkness, there was no answer, and with a cry of despair I threw myself on my knees, when all at once he shouted:
“Hullo!”
“Shock,” I cried, “I’m here.”
“What yer do that for?” he cried fiercely.
“I didn’t do anything.”
“Yes, yer did,” he cried. “Yer threw a lump o’ sand on my head. I’m half blind, and my ears is full. Just wait till I gets hold on yer, I’ll pay yer for it.”
Then he began panting, and spitting, and muttering about his eyes, and at last—“Here, where are yer?”
“I’m here, close by you,” I said. “Don’t you understand? The sand has fallen and shut us in.”
There was silence for a few minutes—a terrible painful silence to me, as I felt that I was face to face with death. Then Shock seemed to have grasped the situation, for he said coolly enough: