“So how!” cried Vince, springing at him, and seizing the light structure of tin and horn.
Then there was a sharp struggle, the two lads swaying here and there in the narrow place, till Vince flung his companion heavily against the wall, giving him so violent a jar as he clung to the lanthorn that the candle was jumped out of its socket, fell over against the side, and before the boys could even think of getting the door open, the light flashed upon their startled faces and went out.
“You’ve done it now,” cried Mike, in a dolorous tone.
“Oh, come, I like that,” said Vince. “Who snatched the lanthorn away? Wait till we get out, and you’ll see what I’ll give you.”
“Get out the tinder-box quickly,” said Mike.
“What for? Suppose I want you to snatch it away? I’m going on in the dark, same as you’re going back.”
“Don’t be an idiot,” cried Mike, who was growing desperate. “Get out the tinder-box and strike a light.”
“Good-night,” replied Vince tauntingly; “I’m off. Shall I tell them you’ll be home to-morrow?”
For answer Mike sprang at him and grasped him tightly.
“No, you don’t play me that trick,” he cried. “Get out that tinder-box at once.”