The last straw seemed to have given way.
Death in its most hideous form certainly seemed to confront the two prisoners.
A groan of despair escaped Frank’s lips. He covered his face with his hands.
“I am not a coward,” he said, earnestly, “but truly, Barney, it seems hard, indeed, to die in this manner.”
“Shure it’s all av that, Misther Frank,” said the brave Celt. “Av it was not so far, I think we cud dig our way out av the place.”
With an instinctive feeling that this might be possible, they retreated to the far end of the passage.
But the sober reflection that there were many hundred feet of earth between them and the outer air, and that they had no tools to dig with, dispersed this theory like mist.
Both sank down on the ground, overcome with despair.
Frank’s head was near the wall of the passage, and suddenly he experienced a strange thrill.
An odd sound came from beyond the wall of the passage.