The poor fellow turned his head sharply, and gazed wildly into the speaker’s eyes.
“Yes, yes,” he said, and drawing a deep breath, he eagerly snatched at the hand held out to him and stood up. “Bit of a shock to a fellow’s nerves. I never felt like that when we went at the Boers. Thank you, sergeant. Thank you, my lads. I never felt like that.”
“No,” said the captain quickly. “It would have unmanned any one.”
“Did me, sir,” said Sergeant James. “And I never felt like that.”
“Ha!” sighed Dickenson, giving himself a shake, and beginning to unbuckle his belt to get rid of the dripping lanterns. “I’m better now. Ought I to go down again, sir?”
“Go down again, man?” cried Roby. “Good heavens, no! It would be madness to send any one into that horrible pit.—Here, I had forgotten Corporal May. Where is he?”
“We laid him down in yonder, sir,” said one of the men, indicating the interior of the cavern with a nod.
“Not dead?”
“No, sir, I don’t think so,” was the reply as the captain passed through the archway, followed by the sergeant, who snatched up a lantern; while Dickenson turned to the great pit, steadied himself by the tree-trunk which led up, and gazed into the black place.
“Poor old Drew!” he groaned softly. “If it had only been together—in some advance!”