“Hope not, sir; and that’s what worries me—me being a man and feeling as I do, while you’re only a boy and don’t seem to mind a bit. I wouldn’t care so much if you were frightened too.”
“Well, I am frightened, Ned—horribly frightened, but not of the flying foxes.”
“But you don’t seem to mind what might be farther in, sir,” said Ned, staring wildly into the darkness ahead.
“Oh yes, I do,” replied Jack. “I’m afraid we might slip down into some horrible black pit; but we need not if we’re careful.”
“Ah, you don’t seem to understand me, sir, and I don’t quite understand myself. I suppose it’s from only being half myself again, for one of my arms is no good at all. That’s what makes me feel a bit cowardly like.”
“Yes, of course, it makes you nervous,” said Jack quietly.
“There! Feel that, sir?” whispered Ned in a horror-stricken voice.
“That hot puff of air? Yes, it’s curious. I suppose it would grow warmer the farther we went in.”
“And you taking it as cool as can be, sir,” said Ned in a voice full of reproach.
“Well, why not? We’ve only got to be careful, just as we should have to be if we were climbing up to the crater. There would be hot steamy puffs of air there, and— Quick, don’t speak. Take hold of my hand, and let’s go softly right in.”