In their secret hearts his two companions were more than half inclined to follow this suggestion; but there is a form of cowardice to which even the bravest are subject—namely, the fear of being thought afraid— and it was this, perhaps, which decided them to advance instead of retreat.
"Oh no, we won't go back," cried Diggory. "Come along; I'll go first."
And so saying, he plunged forward into the deep shadow of the archway.
The ground seemed to be plentifully strewn with ashes, which scrunched under their feet as they plodded along, and their voices sounded hollow and strange.
"My eye," said Jack, "it's precious dark. I can hardly see where I'm going."
"It'll be darker still before we see the end," answered Diggory. "Some one was telling me the other day that there's a curve in the middle."
"Hadn't we better go back?" faltered Mugford.
"No, you fathead; shut up."
The darkness seemed to increase, and the silence grew oppressive.
The boys were walking in single file, Diggory leading, and Jack Vance bringing up the rear.
"I say," exclaimed the latter, as he stumbled over a sleeper,
"I shouldn't like to be caught here by a train."