“There’s one chance,” cried Harry, “and only one—it’s just possible that there may be people, civilized people——”
“Or Indians,” put in Billy, “what difference does it make who or what they are——”
“As I was about to say,” went on Harry, not noticing the half hysterical interruption of the overwrought boy, “it’s just possible that if there is anyone in the neighborhood of the top of this shaft that we might be able to attract their attention by shouting.”
“A good idea, Harry,” replied Frank. It was at once put into execution. The boys shouted at the pitch of their tired voices for a good hour and then desisted from sheer inability to produce another sound. There was no result. Once a bird hopped onto a creeper at the mouth of the shaft and peeped inquisitively down, but that was the only fruit of their efforts. The boys looked blankly at each other. They were three as brave lads as ever stood together facing hardship and adventure, but who shall blame Billy Barnes if tears did well up in his eyes and topple over, and trickle down his cheeks as, his head in his hands, he sank despairingly on the rock floor at the bottom of the shaft?
The bright blue sky above, the cheerful green of the waving creepers and plants that fringed the mouth of their prison all combined to make their disappointment harder to bear. Each boy felt that if death was to come it would be easier almost to face it in the dark tunnel they had left behind them than here, almost within grasp of life and all they held most dear.
“We’d better take an inventory,” remarked the practical Frank at length, “and see just how long we can last out. When we reach the end we’ve got one desperate chance——”
His listeners looked up from their despairing attitudes inquiringly.
“We can retrace our steps and try to leap the chasm.”
“A twelve foot jump at least,” exclaimed Harry.
“You’ve done better than that at home many times,” rejoined Frank bravely, “and so have I, and so has Billy, I’ll bet.”