"Somewhere between one and ten miles," was my answer. "How the deuce should I know? But we'll make it now, I think. Can you hold out, Desiree?"
"Easily," she answered. "If only I could get some air! Just one good, long breath."
There was the danger, and on that account no time was to be lost. Again we struck out into the blackness ahead. I felt myself no longer fresh, and began to doubt seriously if we should reach our goal.
But we reached it. No need to recount our struggles, which toward the end were inspired by suffering amounting to agony as we choked and gasped for sufficient air to keep us up.
Another hundred yards would have been too much for us; but it is enough that finally we staggered onto the bank at the entrance to the cavern in which we had previously rested, panting, dizzy, and completely exhausted.
But an hour in the cavern, with its supply of air, revived us; and then we sat up and asked ourselves: "What for?"
"And all that brings us—to this," said Harry, with a sweeping gesture round the cavern.
"At least, it is a better tomb," I retorted. "And it was a good fight. We still have something in us. Desiree, a good man was lost in you."
Harry rose to his feet.
"I'm going to look round," he announced. "We've got to do something. Gad, and it took us a month to build that raft!"