“Just where we took fright and began to fancy we were wrong. Now then, forward.”
“No,” said Mike firmly; “we’ll go back. You are always so rash, and will not think.”
“Yes, I will; I’m thinking now!” cried Vince warmly, “and I think that you’re about the most pig-headed fellow that there ever was. Now, look here, Ladle, don’t be stupid. I’m as sure as sure that we are going right after all, and all we’ve got to do is to go straight on.”
“And I’m sure that we ought to go back.”
“I shan’t go back!”
“And I shan’t go forward!” cried Mike angrily.
“All right, then: I shan’t go back. Only mind how you go, old chap: those places where we had to creep down are rather awkward, and you may take the skin off your nose.”
“What do you mean by that?” cried Mike.
“Only that I’ve got the candle,” said Vince, laughing. “I’ll come and see you to-morrow, and bring you something to eat, for you’ll never find your way out again in the dark.”
“But I’m not going in the dark, old clever!” cried Mike, snatching the lanthorn suddenly from his companion. “How now?”