Dick arrived at the conclusion that they had gone far enough to admit of a change in their method of procedure.
“I am going to strike a light, so keep still, please, both of you,” he announced.
Dick was always prepared for anything like this. His tinder, flint and steel were handy, and he even had a small piece of tallow dip that hardly deserved the name of candle, but which had a wick, and would give out a faint glow if ignited.
To the boy of to-day this awkward means of producing a light would have presented almost insurmountable difficulties, and ultimate success might well be hailed as a wonderful feat. To the pioneer lads it was of such daily occurrence that they thought nothing of accomplishing it.
In a very brief period of time Dick had clipped his flint and steel together so as to send a shower of sparks into the tiny bit of inflammable tinder, which began to smolder. This was blown until it flamed up, when the wick of his tallow candle-end was thrust into the blaze.
Looking around after they had obtained this sorry means of illumination, the intruders could see that they were in a good-sized cave. Ahead of them lay more dense gloom, which would seem to indicate that the aperture amidst the rocks extended for an unknown distance beyond.
“Well, this is a pretty good place to put in the night, when it’s getting cold enough out there to freeze your toes,” said Roger.
“It’s really comfortable in here,” agreed Mayhew.
“That’s because the rock is warm, if you have thought to notice it,” Dick explained.