“Tut, tut, tut!” ejaculated Roby. “I expected to find him waiting close to the entrance. Lanterns.”
The men were already inside lighting them, eight being rapidly got ready; and once more the party began to traverse the weird place, but under far more favourable circumstances, the line of golden dots formed by the lanterns giving every one a far better opportunity of judging what the place was like.
At every turn in the crooked way a halt was called, and a fresh series of hails went echoing on before them; but not so much as a whisper of an answer greeted their ears.
“The poor fellow must have become tired out with waiting,” said Captain Roby, “and dropped off to sleep.”
“He sleeps pretty soundly, then,” whispered Dickenson, who was in front with Lennox, following the sergeant, who carried the first lantern.
“Ought to have been woke up by that last shout, though,” said Lennox. “What do you say, sergeant?”
“I’m afraid we shall come upon him soon regularly off his head, gentlemen,” said the sergeant, “He isn’t the pluckiest chap in his company.”
“Don’t talk like that, sergeant,” said Lennox sharply. “It’s enough to drive any poor fellow crazy to find himself shut up in a place like this and feel that he may never be found.”
“Well, yes,” added Dickenson, “it is; without counting all the horrors he’d conjure up about bogies and things coming after him in the dark.”
“I dare say, sir,” said the sergeant; “though I don’t suppose there’s anything worse here than bats.”