Even as we sprang up and away, a deafening crash resounded at our heels, and we knew that the ledge where we had lain had been hit and shattered. The next instant, as we darted along the gallery, an even louder crash burst forth, and a huge rocky mass, dislodged from the gallery roof, came roaring and clattering down almost at our feet.
In that desperate crisis, it was each for himself. As if by instinct, I knew that if I remained in that main passageway a second longer, I would be struck and killed; as if by instinct, I turned in my flight and darted off into the shelter of one of the many side-galleries. And such was the impulse of my terror that I did not halt even when reaching this relative safety, but kept on at full speed down the vaguely lighted corridor, until at last my panting breath and pounding heart forced me to stop.
Then, wheeling about, I was swept by a new rush of alarm. Where was Clay?
In the fury of my panic, I had forgotten him. And now he was not to be seen!
"Phil! Phil!" I cried, suddenly aware of an aloneness, an isolation such as I had never felt before. "Phil! Phil! Phil!"
But my words rang uncannily down the dim gallery, with echoes like devil's mockery. "Phil! Phil! Phil! Where are you, Phil? Where are you?" I shouted again and again. But still only the echoes came back to me, like the voice of my own despair, "Where are you, Phil? Where are you?"
And then, as I still called without reply, there came a thought that all but paralyzed me with dread. What if my friend had not been so fortunate as I? What if he had been hit by one of the death-bolts?
As this new fear shot over me, I raised my voice more loudly than ever, "Phil! Phil! Phil! Answer me, Phil! Where are you? Where are you?" As though the sound of my own shouts would still the tumult storming within me!
Furiously I retraced my footsteps. Back along the side-gallery I dashed, back to the main corridor where I had last seen my old chum. "Phil! Phil! Phil! Where are you?" I still shouted as I approached; and my heart sank as my voice, husky from the strain, cried out those unavailing words.
Then, with a final throb of expectation, I entered the corridor and started out across its greenish-yellow spaces. And, as I did so, I gave a gasp, and hope died within me. The gallery was empty! Clay was nowhere to be seen!