The match flickered out, and to the imprisoned man the darkness seemed denser than ever. It pressed upon him like a real substance, till he felt tempted to shout in his distress.
By degrees he grew calmer, and staggering to his feet he moved his limbs with extreme caution. To his satisfaction they were still sound, though he was beginning to feel stiff and bruised from head to foot.
The light of a second match showed that Blight was indeed beyond all human aid, so, placing his handkerchief over the face of the corpse, Mr. McKay retired a few steps till a third match became necessary.
He found himself within a few feet of one of the walls of his prison. The stone, divided by volcanic agency, was almost vertical at the point, though at others it receded so that the base of the abyss was several yards beyond the perpendicular height of the shaft. Close to him was a deep crack in the wall, known by mountaineers as a "chimney."
It might be possible to scale the rock, he thought, but the knowledge that the edge of the shaft was "rotten" compelled Mr. McKay to abandon that attempt. He must wait; yet, unwilling to remain idle, he resolved to sacrifice four more of his precious matches in exploring the immediate vicinity of the chasm.
Keeping close to the wall, Mr. McKay proceeded with the utmost caution, till he reached a yawning cavern that descended abruptly.
For a moment he hesitated, fearing the presence of carbonic acid gas, but on holding the lighted match close to the ground the flame burnt clear and bright.
To his surprise Mr. McKay found his hand resting on the butt of a musket. The weapon was lying on the hard, rocky floor of the cave, for here no dust had penetrated. Another match revealed the fact that the firearm was of an ancient pattern, the combined flint and matchlock being of not later date than the end of the seventeenth century.
"By George! This is a find!" exclaimed Mr. McKay.
For the time being he forgot his surroundings, interest being centred in this relic of bygone days.