There was a whispering echo, but nothing more till Oliver spoke,—
“Where did you see him last?”
“See him, sir, why yonder, where the magneshy was burnt. Billy ahoy–y–y–y!”
But there was no answer, and they stood in a little group appalled by the knowledge that their lights would not last many minutes longer.
“Here—quick, Smith, you have some more candles?” cried Oliver.
“Not a blessed one, sir. Billy Wriggs has got what there is left in his jersey.”
The truth forced itself upon them now with horrifying force that they had done wrong in making this attempt so badly provided, and in trusting so fully to Panton, who in his eager enthusiasm had gone too far.
One thought was in every mind, would they ever be able to find their way out of this terrible darkness when the last ray of light had failed?