“Oh, surely not. This isn’t a coal-mine, but a sort of grotto under a flow of lava. Try if one of them will light.”
“All right, sir. I say, they rattle all right, as if they were hard.”
The box clicked as Ned opened it; he took out a match, rubbed it sharply, and there was a faint line of phosphorescent light.
“No go, sir; just like one of them fishy things we get alongside.”
“Try another.”
Whisk—crick—crick—crack—and a flash of light.
“Hooray!” cried Ned, as the tiny taper blazed up and burned steadily, showing that the holder was close to the edge of a huge chasm, down which a couple of strides would have taken him, and as the light burned lower Jack crept quickly to where Ned still crouched by the side of the passage.
“Why, Ned, I could not see much, but this opens out here into a vast place.”
“Yes, sir; I got a glimpse of it. Shall I light another match?”
“No, no, save them.”