CHAPTER XVIII.
THE ROAD WITH PITS.
"Come," said the Baker, "come!"
"Where?" asked Smith, with a sick heart.
And looking at his chum, he saw the horror in the poor fellow's face. For it was wrinkled and seamed, and the courage and hope, which had helped them both so often, had, for that time at least, left him utterly.
"I don't know," said the Baker, and he caught Smith's hand, and then let it go, and took hold of Kitty, who was also the victim of extreme terror. The sight of the others broken down brought back strength to the older man.
"What are you scared of?" he cried contemptuously. "Do you funk death so much, Baker?"
"No," said the Baker in a whisper, "but to go down into a pit, when one is asleep, oh, my Gawd! it's 'orrible."
He kept glancing round him uneasily, and anxiety made him stare. He stamped on the loose sand.
"How did you notice it?" asked Smith.