But Mike recovered his balance directly.
“Pooh!” he cried; “how could it? I don’t believe there has been water along here for hundreds of years.”
He began to climb, and they went on again, till it struck Vince seriously that they were a very long time getting out, and he cried, in alarm,—
“I say, we haven’t taken a wrong turning, have we?”
His words struck a chill through both, and they stood there speechless for some moments, gazing in each other’s dimly seen faces.
“Couldn’t,” cried Mike at last. “We did not pass a single turning.”
“Didn’t see a single turning?” said Vince. “No, we did not; but we might easily have passed one going sharply off to right or left, and come along it without noticing.”
“I say, don’t say that,” whispered Mike hoarsely; “it sounds so horrible. Why, we may be going right away from the daylight into some horrible maze of a place underground.”
“Seems as if that’s what we are doing,” said Vince sadly, “or we should have got out by now. We must have borne off to right or left, and—here we are.”
“Yes; here we are,” chorused Mike, rather piteously; “but it’s no use to be dumpy, is it? Let’s go back to the cave and start again, unless we can find out where we turned off as we go.”