The half-burned match fell from Ned's trembling fingers, and went out on the sand. Then there was silence for nearly a minute—a terrible, oppressive silence.
It was broken by a sharp cry from Nugget that echoed far through the cavern. He seized Ned by one arm and clung to him, trembling from head to foot.
"Is there no hope?" he wailed pitifully. "Must we stay in this awful place until we die? I can't stand it, Ned, indeed I can't. Oh! do something quick, won't you?"
Ned was at a loss to reply. His own heart was full of misery and despair. What word of comfort could he give his companion? Would it be wise to give him any—to excite hopes that might never be realized?
He put his arm about Nugget, and this seemed to comfort the lad a little.
"We will surely find a way to escape, Ned?" he asked in a calmer tone. "Don't you think so?"
"It shan't be our fault if we don't," returned Ned. "You must be brave, Nugget—brave and patient. We are worn out and exhausted now, and must have rest before we can do anything more."
"I was awfully tired a minute ago," said Nugget, "but I feel now as though I could push on all day if I was sure of finding the way out of this cavern. Do you think we will have to go all the way back—to the place we entered by, I mean?"
"I hope that won't be necessary," replied Ned. "The simple truth is that we have blundered into a side passage, that has no outlet. It can't be very long since we got off the right track, for I remember the current against my legs. We will go back after a while and find the turning."
"In this pitch darkness?" exclaimed Nugget.