“Don’t you, Lane?” cried Panton.
“Well, yes, I fancy I can hear a dull sound as of falling water.”
“There must be a cascade, then, farther in. Come on, I must see that. I’ve got some more wire.”
Holding his candle well on high, he strode boldly on over the lava stream, his two friends feeling bound to follow him, while Smith and Wriggs came last.
“How do you feel, Tommy?” whispered the latter.
“Bad,” was the laconic reply.
“Don’t seem no good in going no furder, do it?”
“Not a bit, and these here candles’ll be out d’rectly. Hold hard, please, sir, we’ve got to light up again.”
Oliver heard his words, and hailed Drew, who in turn called to Panton. But the latter was just at an angle where the lava stream swept round to the left, and there was a reason why he did not hear the call, and they saw him disappear round the corner with his light.
Drew hastened his steps and followed, catching sight of him for a moment, and then losing him again, for Panton’s light was extinguished, and Drew stood peering forward in an agony of dread, feeling certain that their companion had dropped down into some horrible crevice in the lava; while he had suddenly himself stepped from almost perfect silence into a part of the cavern where his ears were smitten by a fearful din of falling water.