The day wore on with protracted suffering and monotony. Long after it seemed that night was surely due, the gray streak of light continued to quiver in the crevice.
At length Jerry sprang fiercely up and lit the precious candle. Lured on by a hope that was born of despair, he staggered up and down the cavern. He stared at the slimy walls and roof. From very weakness he reeled against them time and again. Perhaps his wits were hunger-sharpened, as he was more alert than usual. At all events, he discovered something that had previously eluded him.
On the right-hand wall of the cave, close to the dead bear, was a sort of rude path. It sloped up the rock by crevices and little ledges and projecting knobs.
Jerry held the candle as far overhead as possible. The light shone into a narrow, black recess under the roof. He shouted with all his might, again and again, till the cavern rang with the echoes.
Hamp came in haste to the spot, and close behind staggered Sparwick. They wonderingly demanded of Jerry what he meant. Possibly they believed, at first, that suffering had turned his brain.
Jerry pointed out the path and the crevice above it. Then they understood.
“It is where the bear entered,” exclaimed Sparwick. “Look, here’s proof enough.”
He gathered from one of the crevices several stiff, black hairs.
Jerry had already commenced the ascent. He held the candle tightly in one hand as he scaled the rugged face of the rock. Hope mastered weakness. He did not slip or fall.
His companions were close behind him when he gained the top. Here was a tortuous passage, three or four feet broad, leading off at right angles from the main cavern. The little party followed it eagerly.