“But we seem to have come miles.”
“I dare say it is two,” said the convict, “but imagination makes it longer. My first journeyings made me think that it must be at least twenty. Come closer here.”
Nic stepped up and touched the arm which bore the light.
“Now look straight on.”
“I can see nothing.”
“You are not looking the right way. Try again.”
“Yes, I see now. What is it? A spark?”
“Of daylight. We are nearly through.”
Nic’s heart throbbed. He felt as if a huge load had been taken off his brain; a thrill ran through him, and he stepped on briskly, with the faint light ahead rapidly growing brighter. Five minutes later they could see the golden glow of sunshine, and in another minute they were wading in deeper water at the bottom of a vast rift overhung by the ferns which grew on the ledges higher and higher. The next minute they stepped out into broad daylight on the sides of the deep cleft, and in a short time, after some sharp climbing, they were at the bottom of the mighty gorge, with Nic shading his aching eyes.
“My little kingdom, Nic,” said the convict. “Welcome to my savage home!”