"It's got me guessing where we'll be apt to come out, what with all this twisting and turning," observed Frank, still later on, as they found themselves looking upon a capacious cavern, with a lofty ceiling where stalactites hung like immense icicles.
"And it's bothering me," spoke up Lanky, "how we could find any outlet at all, if our supply of torches or matches should give out. What with all this hard work, I'm as thirsty as—Frank, we made a foozle play after all!"
"Forgot to fetch any water along—that's a fact," admitted the other, realizing the mistake when it was too late to remedy it. Then, on second thought, he continued: "After all, we hadn't even a canteen to hold any supply. Besides, I reckon there's aplenty dripping from these stalactites and trickling down the walls. It ought to quench our thirst."
Lanky tried the plan and found there was no taste to the cold water, though it certainly must contain more or less lime, to make those odd formations.
They had left this monster cavern and were passing along another chain of queer-shaped pockets, all connected, when Lanky, who held the torch, came to a sudden pause, so that Frank bumped into him.
"What's the matter?" demanded Frank.
"I glimpsed a pair of yellow eyes ahead! And listen to the growling, will you?" gasped Lanky.
CHAPTER XXII