"That I never could; but 'tis wisdom to save it, when we can't see anything nice to look at, and you can allers meditate better in the dark."
They reclined against the wall of the gallery. For a time they were silent except for sighs that now and then escaped Sam's heaving breast. After one prolonged expiration Dick asked sharply what he was grunting about.
"Don't 'ee laugh, now, if I tell o't," said Sam pleadingly. "My simple thought was, what would Maidy Susan say if she knowed o' this horrible place o' torment? 'There shall be weepin' and gnashin' o' teeth,' says pa'son; 'twill come to that afore long wi' me. There now, 'nation take it! I said I'd spake merry thoughts. Maybe you could put one into my mizzy-mazy head, Maister Dick."
"I'll break it for you if you can't talk sense—— There! Did you hear that?"
"'Twas like the whisk of a rabbit's scut among the furze. Hoy! Yo-hoy! Come and help two poor boys in misery."
"Hoy! hoy!" shouted Dick.
The echoes crossed and clashed, but there was no answer.
Another period of silence. It seemed to last for hours. At length Dick relit the candle and once more scanned the shaft. Could he jump it? He measured it with his eye. He had never been to school; jumping as a sport was unknown to him. In the ordinary course of his outdoor adventures he had sometimes leapt across a stream or from rock to rock, but never a space so wide as this. Realising the impossibility of the feat, he blew out the candle and returned to his place beside Sam.
"I seed yer thought," said the boy, "but Sir Bevil fox-hunting never took a gap like that. A hoss med do it, but not a two-legged body."
Again there was silence. Presently Sam fell asleep, snoring vigorously. Dick pondered and puzzled; to him sleep was impossible. All at once he remembered the barrel he had found in the wall of the cave. A faint hope stirred within him. He wakened Sam, relit the candle, and hurried back through the passage.