“We can’t. They won’t,” said Ruth, still pushing ahead in the dark.
“Ought to turn on the light,” she told herself. “Must! It’s not safe.”
Pausing to listen, she caught the shuffling scamper of rats, the snap of bats. But louder still came the tramp—tramp of heavy feet.
In her fear and despair, she sprang forward, to go crashing against a solid wall.
Knocked half senseless, she sank to her knees. There for a moment she remained motionless. For a moment only, then she was on her feet and away. Her eyes had caught a faint glimmer of light. Far down the narrow passage to the left shone the steady light of day.
“Light!” she whispered solemnly. “Light and hope.”
One moment of mad racing and they were blinking in the sunlight.
The race was not over. Out of the passage, down a set of ancient stone steps, into the grass and bushes, skirts tight and high, they flew until they came up short and panting at the beach.
There in the calm morning were Pearl and the punt.
“You’re here!” Ruth puffed. “Thank God, you’re here!”