There was silence then for a few minutes, as the boys sat there in total darkness, hand clasped in hand. Then Vince spoke.
“I know,” he said, in a voice which Mike hardly recognised: “I’ve been feeling something like it, only I managed to stamp it down. But you cheer up, Ladle. You and I ought to be a match for one Frenchman. We’re not beaten. We must wait.”
“And starve,” said Mike bitterly.
“That we won’t. We’ll try to get right away, but if we can’t we must get something to eat and drink.”
“But how?”
“Find where those fellows keep theirs, and go after it when it’s dark. They won’t starve themselves, you may be sure.”
Mike tried to withdraw his hand, for fear that Vince should think he was afraid to be in the dark; but his companion’s grasp tightened upon it, and he said softly,—
“Don’t take your fist away, Ladle; it feels like company, and it’s almost as good as a light. I say, don’t go to sleep.”
“No.”
Mike meant to sit and watch and listen for the fancied splash that indicated the return of the seals. But he was tired by exertion and excitement, the cavern was warm and dry, the sand was become pleasantly soft, and all at once he was back in the great garden of the fine old manor-house amongst the flowers and fruit, unconscious of everything else till he suddenly opened his eyes to gaze wonderingly at the thick darkness which closed him in.