But Janki still stumbled and crept and tapped with his pick upon the walls. The women rose to their feet.
“Stay all where you are. Without the lamps you cannot see, and I—I am always seeing,” said Janki. Then he paused, and called out: “Oh, you who have been in the cutting more than ten years, what is the name of this open place? I am an old man and I have forgotten.”
“Bullia’s Room,” answered the Sonthal who had complained of the vileness of the air.
“Again,” said Janki.
“Bullia’s Room.”
“Then I have found it,” said Janki. “The name only had slipped my memory. Tibu’s gang’s gallery is here.”
“A lie,” said Kundoo. “There have been no galleries in this place since my day.”
“Three paces was the depth of the ledge,” muttered Janki without heeding—“and—oh, my poor bones!—I have found it! It is here, up this ledge. Come all you, one by one, to the place of my voice, and I will count you.”
There was a rush in the dark, and Janki felt the first man’s face hit his knees as the Sonthal scrambled up the ledge.
“Who?” cried Janki.