Panton forgot all about his companions’ firing, and ran to the edge of the rift to find that it was not above a foot across, and that a hot flush of steamy air was being forced out with a faint singing noise, while, to his astonishment, the narrow crack which ran to right and left quite out of sight was now gradually and quite perceptibly closing up.
He could see down for a few yards and noted an efflorescence of sulphur rapidly forming on the sides, but this grew fainter and fainter, and was soon lost in the bluish darkness.
“Wonderful! wonderful!” he muttered, as he sank upon his knees and laid the barrel of his gun across to watch the rate at which the crevice closed up, while he bent over from time to time to gaze down, the act necessitating the holding of his breath to avoid inhaling the hot fume.
“I should just like to see one o’ them charcoal chaps do that, Billy,” said Smith.
“Yah! Them!” exclaimed Wriggs, contemptuously. “Why, matey, I’m ashamed o’ mysen. That’s what’s the matter with me.”
“’Shamed, what on?”
“Being afeard on ’em. For allus speak the truth, Billy, my poor old mother used to say, and I will now, that I will, and I don’t care who hears me.”
“Spit it out, then, Billy. There’s nothin’ like the truth nowheres. What are you been saying as warn’t true?”
“Same as you did, messmate. I said as it was my legs as run away, ’cause they was feared.”
“Well, so they was, warn’t they? I know mine was.”