Impatiently he asked Duplin for a match. To his horror, Paley answered that he had none! Whether he had lost them during the flight or not, it was certain that they were then in the labyrinth, without means to kindle a light. Search as they might, not a match was found.
As the significant truth burst upon them in its full force, they seemed like madmen. They raved and cursed until out of breath. Then reason returned. They were only wasting precious strength that might yet be needed to save them from a horrible death.
"Come, Duplin," hoarsely muttered Wythe, "we must be men. We need our senses now, if ever. We must find some way out of this. Come—creep forward with me. Try to keep this passage. Perhaps we may succeed—it is our only hope."
"A slim one," and Duplin smothered back a curse. "I begin to believe that that prediction will come true—that this hole is our grave!"
"Don't give way to such thoughts. Hope while we may. The worst, if it must come, will come soon enough."
For an hour—a long, weary hour full of agonizing fears and doubts—the comrades crept slowly on, upon their hands and knees, not knowing whether they were nearing or distancing safety. But then Burr Wythe, who was in advance, gave way to a gasping cry—a cry of joyful thanksgiving.
"Thank God! we are saved! This is the first chamber—I can tell it!"
"But—" hesitated Duplin, "then we should see the light. Where is the hole we crept in at?"
All before them was dark and black. They could see nothing. And now Wythe remembered that as they first entered the tunnel, he had glanced back. The hole then shone clear and distinct. It was gone now!
With a cry of apprehension he arose and sprung forward. In a moment he discovered the truth.