Gradually approaching each other, Ruth’s investigating hand suddenly slid from rock to space. She felt air blowing strongly upon it, and cried out sharply as she extended her well arm to its full length into unmistakable vacancy. Sweeping it from right to left, she touched rock on the right side. Another powerful swing and she had touched it on the left. Next she took a bold step forward, prudently ducking her head. Very slowly she raised her arm. A trifle above her head it collided with something solid—a hard, rather smooth surface that had the moist, cool feel of earth.
Hearing that cry, Blanche had stumbled toward it, calling as she came. She bumped smartly into Ruth, who had stepped back again. “What—have you found it?”
“Yes.” Ruth’s tones vibrated with eagerness. “It’s large enough to step into standing up. Now the question is, ‘Dare we follow it in the dark?’ I don’t think we need be afraid of snakes. The only things that I see to be afraid of are, if it went down suddenly into a deep hole, or if it should get so narrow we’d be stuck, or so low we’d strike our heads.”
For a long moment Blanche made no reply. She dreaded the thought of attempting this fearsome walk in the dark. She lacked the intrepid spirit that urged Ruth on to seek release from their prison. She opened her lips to protest, then in a flash she realized that at last she had been given a chance to prove herself worthy to be a Camp Fire Girl.
“I’m not afraid,” she answered bravely. “I’m willing to try it.”
“Good! Then here we go. Get behind me, and take hold of my skirt with your right hand. It’s going to be slow work. One very careful stop and stop, then another and stop and so on. I’ll keep my right hand out and above my head as we go. You feel for the wall on your left side. Then we can tell if it’s getting low or narrow.”
Obediently, Blanche placed herself as Ruth had directed. “I’m ready,” she signalled. “Go ahead.” Then the two forlorn adventurers went cautiously forward on their hazardous undertaking. As Ruth had predicted, it was indeed slow work. It meant constant vigilance of foot and hand, for in the dense blackness their eyes were of small use to them. Neither could they form any idea of their progress as to distance or time.
“It must be hours since we started,” Blanche moaned at last. “I’m so tired. Can’t we stop for a minute?”
“I don’t believe it’s even half an hour,” Ruth obligingly halted. She, too, was feeling intense fatigue. “We are doing well, though. The air seems to be getting fresher. I imagine the passage is about the same height and width all the way.”
While they rested, Ruth forced herself to pretend cheerfulness. Still, she made note of the fact that Blanche was behaving admirably.