“No, sir, you.”
“I say you.”
“And I—”
Archy yielded to his superior in the expedition, crept out, and the master was following, and got stuck, but a fierce tug from a couple of the men set him free, and he had only just joined the two boats’ crews standing side by side on the shelf of rock, when the whole cliff seemed to shake; and, as if the passage they had left were some vast cannon, the artificial wall left was blown right out by an awful burst of flame, the stones hurtling down as if the end of the cliffs had come, and falling with a mighty splash into the chasm.
The men stood white and awe-stricken, expecting the cliff to crumble away beneath them, but save that a stream of fire roared out of the opening, all was now still.
Then, in the midst of the awe-inspiring silence, Ram spoke,—
“I thought it wouldn’t be long before the powder caught;” and then, before any one could reply, the lad said quietly, “I didn’t want to be burnt to death. Better go to prison for smuggling. I say, I got this rope. Hadn’t we better make it fast somewhere, and then you can all get down to the big shelf? I’ll come last, and unfasten it.”
“And then how will you get down?” said the master suspiciously.
“Oh,” said Ram, laughing, “I can climb down; can’t I, orficer?”
“Yes,” said Archy quietly. “He can get down. You will not try to escape, will you, Ram?”