"Close to the rock. Here's a match. I'll
slip back to the mouth of the place and we'll see if there's any glow
gets that far."
"Hurry, then," said Betty, with a little shiver, fingers finding his
and taking the match.
Appreciating her sensations he hurried off through the dark. He
rounded the turn, called softly to her to strike the match and went on
again until he was near the entrance. So still was it that he heard
the scratching of the match against the sole of her sandal. But no
flare of light came out to him.
"Did you light it?" he asked.
"Yes. Couldn't you see it?"
"Not a glimmer. Wait a minute and I'll bring in some stuff for a fire."
The match burned down until it warmed her fingers and went out. In the
dark she waited breathlessly. A sigh of relief escaped her when she
heard him coming.
He went down on his knees and made a very small heap of the dry leaves
and twigs he had scraped up. When he set fire to it and straightened
up they watched the flames eagerly. There was scarcely more light than
a candle casts but even that faint illumination brought something of
cheeriness with it. They looked about them curiously. They could see
dimly the passageway along which they had come; they could make out its
narrowing continuation on into the mass of the mountain. They looked
up and saw an ever dwindling space merging with darkness and finally
lost in utter obscurity.
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