Chapter Twenty Three.
Just in Time.
All at once Dummy Rugg uttered a peculiar snort, and started up in a sitting position, with the thought still fresh in his brain that he must rouse up Mark from his nap.
But all was dark, and there was the gurgling rush of the water below. “Why, I’ve been asleep,” muttered the lad excitedly. “Think o’ me doing that!”
He rose quickly, and felt for the crack in which he had stuck the candles, narrowly escaping a plunge into the little pool from which he had drunk.
He found the spot where the candles had been, both of them; he could feel it by the size, and knew it by the shape, for it grew smaller at each extremity, so that he had been able to wedge the ends of the candles tight.
Yes: there was no doubt about it. Both candles, as if to be in fashion with the stony drippings of the cavern, had run down a little, to form tiny stalagmites of grease.
“Burnt right out,” muttered Dummy, still more excitedly. “Why, I may ha’ been asleep for hours.”