“I say,” he cried, his voice sounding, like mine, more and more subdued—at least so it seemed to me—“I say, I weren’t looking; it didn’t go down on the dog too—did it?”
“No, Shock, I saw her run away.”
There was a few moments’ silence and then he said:
“Well, I am glad of that. I likes dorgs, and we was reg’lar good friends.”
“Hark!” I said; “is that Ike digging?”
“No,” he said; “it was some more sand tumbled down, I think.”
I knew he was right, for there was a dull thud, and then another; but whether inside or outside I could not tell. It made me tremble though; for I wondered whether I should be able to struggle out if part of the roof came down upon my head.
All at once Shock began to whistle—not a tune, but something of an imitation of a blackbird; and as I was envying him his coolness in danger I heard a scratching noise and saw a line of light. Then there was another scratch and a series of little sparkles. Another scratch, and a blue flame as the brimstone on the end caught fire; and then, as the splint of wood burned up, I could see in the midst of a ring of light the face of Shock, looking very intent as he bent over the burning match, and held to it the wick of a little end of a common tallow candle.
“I allus carries a bit o’ candle out of the lanthorns,” he said, showing his teeth; and then he held up the light, and I could see that the opening to the cave was completely closed up, just as if the roof had all come down, and the cave we were in was not half the size it was at first, a slope of sand encroaching on the floor. I felt chilled, for I felt that it would be impossible to tunnel through that sand.
“Now, then,” said Shock coolly, “that there’s the way—ain’t it? Well, we don’t want no light to see to do that; so you put it out ’case we wants it agen, and put it in yer pocket. I’ll go down on my knees and have first scratch, and when I’m tired you shall try, and we’ll soon get through it. We won’t wait for Ike.”