"Now!" gasped Parrish, and, clinging to one another, the three darted out of the cavern's entrance. Another terrific shock sent them stumbling and reeling and sprawling down the side of the mountain. Jim heard old Parrish wailing, and, as the shock subsided, groped his way to his side.
"You hurt?" he shouted.
"Lucille, Lucille," moaned the old man. "She's dead! A big rock crushed her. I wish I was dead too."
Jim called Lucille's name frantically, and to his immense relief heard her crying faintly out of the darkness. He rushed to her side and held her in his arms.
"Where are you hit, darling?"
"I'm—all right," she panted. "I was stunned for a moment. I—can—go on now."
But she went limp in Jim's arms, and Jim picked her up and stood irresolute, until he heard Parrish shambling toward him over the heaving ground.
"She's not hurt, I think, only fainted," said Jim. "Which way, Parrish? You lead us."
"Down the slope," panted Parrish. "We'll be in the ferns in a minute. We can hide there for a while, till she's able to walk. God help us all! And I was once Professor of Physical Chemistry at Columbia!"
The outcry might have seemed comical under other circumstances; as it was, Jim heartily re-echoed old Parrish's sentiments in his heart.