"I will try," she said, "if you will each give me an arm."
And thus they crawled along, the tunnel echoing to their footsteps. No one spoke; they were past that. Their road was easier now, for it was on the level; but what they gained in that, was balanced by their failing strength. It bore slightly to the right and seemed interminable, but it was really not a quarter of the length it appeared to them. It was only that they were so worn out. On they staggered, swaying this way and that, and sometimes almost falling, each feeling that, if their journey should not soon end, they must die of sheer exhaustion.
St. Just felt Halima totter. "Bear up," he whispered—he had no voice—"we are nearly through."
But it was useless; she heard him not, but sank fainting to the ground. St. Just signed to Mahmoud, and they raised her and carried her a few yards; then they put her down to rest themselves. Thus they proceeded with many halts for a hundred yards or so. Having to carry their torches, they had but one arm for her.
They were resting, Halima lying on the ground, when suddenly St. Just clutched Mahmoud's arm convulsively and pointed ahead; he was too far gone to speak.
In the far distance was a tiny point of light.
Once more they took up Halima, who was still unconscious, and resumed their way, but now full of hope; and hope lent them strength.
Larger and larger grew the spot of light—not the lurid light from the horrid crater, but the white light of day—so that now they could almost see their way without their torches. Suddenly St. Just's foot struck violently against some obstruction, and all three fell heavily to the ground, the shock, in their then exhausted state, rendering them unconscious.
* * * * *
Mahmoud, perhaps because he was the youngest, was the first to come to himself. He looked around, and was surprised to find he knew the place. It was a cave in which he had more than once sheltered from the storm. The way out possessed no real difficulties, though it was intricate.