Bump, bump, bump, it went down the steps. For an instant her heart stood still. Had it gone on down? Was she left without a light? She thought it had stopped on the third step, but could not be sure.
Slowly, carefully, she felt her way over the damp and slippery steps. One step, two, three. She felt them over carefully. No matches. Her heart sank. One more step, a hasty groping in the dark, then a cry of joy. She gripped the box.
The next moment the place was alight with a reddish yellow glow, and the next instant, standing up, she was grasping the white object that had caught her eye. It was one of four tallow candles that lay in a rocky niche.
Holding her match to it, she had the joy of seeing its wick sputter, then flame up.
One moment she hesitated. Then, putting one of the candles in her pocket, and holding another well before her, with a firm and steady step she began the descent into the mysterious cavern.
CHAPTER XIII
A TENSE SITUATION
It was mysterious, haunting, spectral. “Like going down into the tomb of some ancient Egyptian king,” Florence told herself as, with candle held well out before her, and every step carefully poised, she made her way down the long stone stairway.
Black walls of coal were on either side. Before these the mine props stood like grim sentinels. The shadows of these, cast by the flickering light of the candle, appeared to take on life as they leaped, swaying and dancing, against the dusky walls.
Suddenly the girl caught her breath. A puff of air had all but extinguished her candle.
“And it came from below, not from above!” she breathed.