He breathed more and more free. Hope was reviving him, nearly as much as the fresh air. He listened for his comrade—he fancied he heard a faint groan, at no great distance. He called aloud; but only the moaning gasp replied. Holding an arm over his mouth, he staggered to his feet. The flannel shirt was saturated, and to his great joy, Cook found that he could breathe through it with comparative ease.
He staggered on until he fell over the senseless body of his young comrade. Exerting all his strength, the Californian dragged Dane to the water, and bathed his face. Ten minutes later the young man had recovered his consciousness.
Then Cook whispered his hope—and that too reinvigorated Dane. Together they examined the end of the passage before them; by the sense of touch. All their torchwood was out.
The dirt felt loose—as if it had lately been placed there. And then, standing upon Cook’s bent back, Dane found that the surmise was true—that a portion of the roof had caved in, thus blocking up the passage.
Only for a very brief time could they stand erect; the smoke was dense, hot and suffocating. But the water proved an invaluable ally. Through its aid they were enabled to live, to breathe, to work.
It was a long task, for the cave had been considerable but at length they bored a hole through to the passage beyond, large enough to admit their persons. Then thoroughly soaking their clothing, they boldly ventured on through the darkness.
The draught seemed to increase as they progressed, and the air to be less laden with smoke. Or that may have been fancy, now their hopes were rising. Still it was a bitter struggle, and they nearly sunk beneath it. Yet, as we know they succeeded in reaching safety.
Jaded, completely exhausted, they dared not venture entirely away from the cave, knowing that such bitter enemies were near, and sheltered amidst the fringe of bushes, they lay down and slept long and peacefully.
It was day when they awoke. Nearly the first object that met their gaze as they peered forth upon the slope, was a party of Apaches filing by. That told them the folly of venturing forth, and fearing the worst had befallen their friends, they returned to the cave, and sought out a snug place of concealment. This they found—and more besides. But of that anon.
Through that day they suffered hunger and thirst rather than run any risks. Expecting a search for their bodies would follow as soon as the rocks cooled after the fire, they had not dared even indulge in a pipe, but the day passed by without their hearing or seeing any thing more of the Apaches. The reader, doubtless, knows why this search was not made. The Apaches had their hands full of other work.