The bright, flaring, spluttering blaze, glimmering and flashing upon the troubled waters and reflected from the roof; then, as it sank down, comparative darkness, for the two scraps of candle seemed to burn very dimly.  Tom lay upon the rocks without speaking, while the agony that passed through my brain was intense.  I felt that I had murdered the poor fellow, who was called upon to give up his young life through his fidelity to what any thoughtful man would call my wild follies.

We were to die, then, here, in this wild, mysterious cave, far beyond the reach of aid; for even if we had not by our caution thoroughly concealed our coming, who would dare to follow our route, unless by chance the raft were seen?

That certainly afforded a faint gleam of hope, and another came directly to fortify it.  My uncle had talked about the great cave, and its exploration had been mentioned.  It was possible, then, that upon our absence causing uneasiness a search might be made in this direction; for I knew my uncle too well to think that he would leave his sister’s child unsought.

But if he did not arrive in time? or if some of Garcia’s spies had seen us enter and were to mislead the searchers?

The thought was too horrible; and I shuddered as I thought of Lilla and her fate, till a maddening sensation of jealousy drove for a few minutes all fear and dread away.

My musings were arrested by Tom, who made me start by suddenly taking my dripping hand between his ­damp and icy to the touch.

The next moment he was holding my hand to his breast, so that I could feel the laboured beatings of his true heart as he exclaimed hoarsely: 

“Mas’r Harry, you saved my life then, and I’ll never forget it.”

“Nonsense, Tom!” I said with gloomy cheerfulness.  “It’s all give and take out here.  Why, you saved me from the crocodiles.”

“Cuss ’em!  Don’t talk about ’em here, Mas’r Harry,” said Tom in a whisper.  “We don’t know but what there’s horrible ones living in these dreadful waters.  That there cramp taking me in the leg like that made me feel as if one had got hold of me.  I’m a horrible coward, Mas’r Harry, that I am.”

“Tom,” I said, “this place is enough to unnerve any one.”

Then we were silent, for the strange echoings of our voices had an unearthly, terrible effect upon our nerves; and more than once I started at the grotesque shadow of myself upon the wall.  The roar of the great waterfall came humming through the rift above our heads, while below the waters hissed, and bubbled, and lapped against the rocks in a curious, whispering, awe-inspiring fashion; and then moved by the same impulse we both took off and wrung all the moisture we could out of our things before standing shivering before the lights, one of which was already beginning to gutter down and threatened to become extinct.

Upon examining our wallets we found that we each had a couple of candles left, but our provision was very low; and the question now arose as to the next proceeding.

“Won’t do to lie down and die, Mas’r Harry,” said Tom.  “I’m ever so much warmer now.”

“No, Tom,” I said, “we’ll fight to the last; but what are we to do?”

“Well, Mas’r Harry, I’d first of all get up into the crack of a passage up there before the lights go out, for there’s no knowing how high this water may rise; and if I ain’t to see daylight no more, but to die here, I should like to die dry and warm.”

“Don’t talk about death, Tom,” I said with a shudder.  “Let’s fight for life to the last, and, as you say, we’ll climb up to the rift.”

One candle burned out as we tried to move it, and deferring the lighting of another for reasons of economy, we climbed to the narrow crack-like passage and went along it about thirty yards before Tom, who was first, turned round in a part where the passage widened a few feet.

“Now look here, Mas’r Harry,” he said.  “We don’t know that there ain’t no other way out of the cave.  I should say as there is if we could find it; at all events we mustn’t lie down and die till we’ve looked about and the candles are burned away, and then felt about till we can’t feel no longer.  So see here, Mas’r Harry, we’re wet, and cold, and tired out, and we can’t do nothing better than sit down here and have a good sleep.  Then we’ll wake up, eat the bit of grub there is left, and go to work again fresh.  What do you say?”

“Say?  That I think you are right, Tom,” I replied, trying to imitate his cheerfulness.  “But about the light?”

“Light, Mas’r Harry?  Why, we must put it out.  We ain’t little children to be afraid to go to sleep in the dark.  Then you’ve got your tinder-box and matches all dry in the wallet, and we can light up and go at it again in the morning, or night, or whatever it is, Mas’r Harry, for there ain’t no difference here.  Who knows but what, while we are looking for the way out, we mayn’t find what you want?”

“What I want, Tom?” I said suspiciously.  “To be sure, Mas’r Harry?  What you want, whatever that may be ­I don’t say as it’s gold mines, or dymons, or what not; only whatever it is we may find it, for I shouldn’t be surprised at finding anything here.”

I did not reply; but making the best of the sad lodging that was to be ours for the next few hours, and all wet and shivering as we were, creeping together for warmth, we lay down, and I stretched out my hand to extinguish the candle.

But my hand was arrested half-way, as I looked upon the glittering rock above my head and listened to the hissing, seething noise of the water below us in the long vault and the faint roar of the cataract far above us to the left.  Now with a sense of dread indescribable I thought of the water rising to where we were during our sleep, and whether it would not be better to light another candle.  Anything was better than lying there in the horrible darkness.

The spare supply of light we possessed, though, would be wanted after our sleep, and reluctantly I pressed down the wick; thinking as I did so what would be the use of the gold if I found it now and there should be no means of escape!

“What time would you like your shaving-water, Mas’r Harry?” said Tom, whose teeth chattered as he spoke.

“This is no time for laughing, Tom,” I said gloomily.

“I don’t see as it’s any time for crying, Mas’r Harry,” he replied, “for I’m quite wet enough without that.”

Then he was silent, and we lay in that awful darkness, which in, spite of my efforts, I kept peopling with multitudinous horrors.

Then I seemed to lose consciousness; in spite of hard rock, cold, and damp, sleeping heavily, and dreaming now of Lilla, who seemed to be in some terrible peril from which I could not save her.  I wanted to reach her, but something kept me away, while the danger she was in, as it floated before my distempered imagination, was somehow connected with Garcia, and Indians, and fire, or a mingling of all three.  I felt ready to cry out as I struggled against the power that held me back; but at last I saw what it was that stayed me; it was the gold for which I had been seeking ­piled-up, heavy masses of gold ­holding me down, crushing me almost, while Lilla’s sweet imploring face was turned to me as if asking my help.  I strained, I longed to release myself, but in vain; and at last one great ponderous mass began to move towards me slowly, with a heavy, roaring noise, till it rested upon my chest, and with a start I woke to find one of Tom’s arms thrown across my throat and him snoring loudly.

For a few minutes I lay aghast, unable to make out where I was; but by degrees recollection brought back all the horrors of our position, and with a sigh I managed to rid myself of Tom’s arm.

I settled myself to try and sleep once more, so as to be ready for what would, I knew, prove an arduous, wearying task, tiring alike to body and spirit; when my blood seemed to be frozen in my veins, for there came a soft, fluttering noise, the air seemed to fan my cheeks as I lay, and then there echoed through the place three wild, appalling cries, followed by profound silence.

“Who’s that a-calling?  It won’t do, Muster Garcia!  You left her to drown, eh?  What!  Hilloa!  Say, Mas’r Harry, was I dreaming or did you call?”

“I did not call, Tom,” I whispered; “but there is some one in here besides us.  Hark!”

Again, as I spoke, and heard plainly above the distant roar, three more cries came sweeping along, and once more there was silence.

“All right, Mas’r Harry,” said Tom; “better chance for us to get out.  If some one else can come in that only shows that there’s another way; and when it’s time to get up, why, up we get, for I don’t feel a bit disposed to try any more sleep here ­it’s too much like hard work!”

“I don’t think the cries were human, Tom,” I said.

“Never mind that, Mas’r Harry, they weren’t ghosts’ cries.  I’ll bet that.  Now, if my old mother was here she’d stick out as it was a spirit as couldn’t ­Oh, Mas’r Harry, though, what a horrid screech!” he whispered, as again a long-drawn, hollow, echoing cry ran through the passages.

I do not think I’m more timid than most lads would have been at a time like this; but my hands trembled as I sought for the flint, steel, and tinder-box, anxious to be out of the darkness that hemmed us in on all sides, and it was not until I had tried for some time that I was able to ignite the tinder.

At last, though, the brimstone match was held down to the spot glowing beneath my breath, the blue flame was succeeded by that of the wooden splint, and once more our spirits rose as the feeble light of a candle was reflected from the rocky walls.