"I left them beside my pipe on the information desk," came the Doctor's voice from the top of the dark stairs. "But there must be matches in the lighthouse somewhere. We must find them."
"What chance have we of that?" shouted Dab-Dab. "It's as black as black down here. And the ship is coming nearer every minute."
"Feel in the man's pockets," called John Dolittle. "Hurry!"
In a minute Dab-Dab went through the pockets of the man who lay so still upon the floor.
"He hasn't any matches on him," she shouted. "Not a single one."
"Confound the luck!" muttered John Dolittle.
And then there was a solemn silence in the lighthouse while the Doctor above and Dab-Dab below thought gloomily of that big ship sailing onward to her wreck because they had no matches.
But suddenly out of the black stillness came a small, sweet voice, singing, somewhere near.
"Dab-Dab!" cried the Doctor in a whisper. "Do you hear that? A canary! There's a canary singing somewhere—probably in a cage in the lighthouse kitchen!"
In a moment he was clattering down the stairs.