“And that means that this is not a dead end; somewhere behind us this cleft goes on and up. The draught is blowing up, and that is the way we have to go. If we try and get up any sort of chimney or gully there is, we shall not only get out of these passages where they are hunting for us——”
“But suppose the gully is too narrow?”
“We’ll come down again.”
“Ssh!” I said suddenly; “what’s that?”
We listened. At first it was an indistinct murmur, and then one picked out the clang of a gong. “They must think we are mooncalves,” said I, “to be frightened at that.”
“They’re coming along that passage,” said Cavor.
“They must be.”
“They’ll not think of the cleft. They’ll go past.”
I listened again for a space. “This time,” I whispered, “they’re likely to have some sort of weapon.”