How long we lay in that stupor ­more than sleep ­I cannot tell; but I was awoke by Tom, and once more we slowly continued our journey, walking now though ­for the absence of fresh perils had given us courage ­and with our arms extended we went slowly on; but ever with the soft earth of the cave beneath our feet, and the stillness only broken by the occasional shriek of a bird.

“Say, Mas’r Harry,” said Tom after a long silence.  “We are only wandering here and there without finding the passage to go out.”

“I have been thinking so too, Tom,” I said, as a thought struck me.  Then loudly ­“Look out, and see if you can make out anything when I fire:  the flash may guide us.”

Taking out my pistol I fired upwards, when it was as if the whole cave were being crushed up together ­thunder, roar, and bellow, in a deafening series of echoes ­echoes succeeded by the rustling as of ten thousand wings, and shrieks that were deafening ­noises which were quite a quarter of an hour in subsiding.

“We must be near to an opening, Tom,” I said, as soon as I could make myself heard.

“All right, Mas’r Harry, and I’ve seen it,” he said cheerily.  “This is a big place, hundreds of feet over, but the passage out lies here; that firing of the pistol was a good idea of yours.”

He took my hand and stepped out boldly.  Then feeling his way with caution, he exclaimed joyfully that he had found the opening, into which we stepped, and soon knew by the hollow sound that we were in a rapidly contracting passage.

From time to time I now flashed off a little powder in the pan of my pistol, in which instant we were able to see that we were in one of the riven passages of the cave, similar to those which we had before traversed; and, faint with hunger, we pressed on, till a distant murmur, ever increasing, forced itself upon my notice, and in a voice of despair I exclaimed: 

“Oh, Tom, Tom! we are going back, my lad!”

“Mas’r Harry,” he exclaimed, “don’t be down-hearted.  ’Tis so, though; and I’ve been thinking it for the past quarter of an hour, but I wouldn’t say it for I wasn’t sure.  Never mind, let’s turn back.  That’s the big waterfall we can hear, sure enough.  But we can step out bold now, as we know there’s no danger; and when we are in the big place where we slept, a little powder will show us the way.”

A weary walk and we were once more upon the soft earth of the cave where we had slept ­the bird-chamber we called it ­when, by means of flashing off powder, we arrived at a pretty good idea of the size of the place, and, better still, discovered a fresh outlet.

Danger and disappointment had made me now cautious, and I would not proceed until, by the expenditure of more powder, we had made sure that there was no other passage; alarming the birds too, so that they swept round us like a hurricane.

“Right this time, Mas’r Harry,” cried Tom.

Then we were once more on the way, crawling as to pace, as we felt our way cautiously along.

“If it ever fell out, Mas’r Harry, that we wanted a hiding-place, what a spot this would be!” said Tom, little thinking that the day was to come when it should prove the salvation of those who were our truest and best friends.  “Why, I don’t believe there’s an Indian ever had the pluck to come a quarter as far, and we know it now well, every foot of it.”

“Except the way out, Tom,” I said sadly.

“Oh, that’s right enough now, Mas’r Harry,” he cried.  “Cheer up:  here’s the birds flying along by the score.  Can’t you hear their wings whistle?  They’re some of those we frightened out coming back again.”

I could hear the soft flap of wings plainly enough, and I could not help feeling hopeful as we toiled on, till suddenly Tom exclaimed: 

“Keep back!”

“What is it?” I exclaimed, our voices echoing in a way which told us that the cave had once more opened out.

“My leg goes down as far as I can reach here, Mas’r Harry.  There’s a hole of some kind.  Stop till I flash off a bit of powder.”

I stood firm, while Tom was busy for a few moments, during which I heard the click of his flask.  Then there were sparks as he snapped off his flint-lock pistol, but for a few times without effect; but at last he started a train of powder which burned brightly, showing us that we stood on a ledge some fifty feet above where there was the flash of water and many a grotesque rock.

“Why, Tom?”

“Why, Mas’r Harry?”

“Down on your knees!” I cried joyfully as I set the example.

For we were in the first extensive widening out of the cave, at about five hundred yards from its mouth, having emerged through an opening hitherto unknown to us from its being upon a ledge forty or fifty feet above the floor, where in that part it ran on a level with the little river.

We rose from our knees, weak as two children, and contrived to scramble down to the bottom, along which we stumbled slowly and without energy towards the cave’s mouth, going back first to where we had left our guns.  Turn after turn, winding after winding, we traversed, and there was the faint dawning of light in the distance ­light which grew more and more bright and glorious as we advanced, shading our eyes with our hands, till, utterly worn out, we sank down close to the entrance amongst the soft, warm, luxurious sand, when I gazed at the pale, haggard, blood-smeared face beside me, to exclaim: 

“Tom, is that you?”

“Mas’r Harry,” he replied hoarsely, “poor Missus wouldn’t know you if she was here.”

It was the noon of the third day, we afterwards learned, that we had spent in these realms of darkness, and never did the bright face of nature look more glorious than it did to our aching eyes.  But in spite of the intense sensation of gnawing hunger we could not proceed till we had rested.  Then after bathing our faces, hands, and feet in the cold stream, we slowly journeyed to the hacienda.

“Don’t say a word about the cave, Tom,” I said, as we neared home.

“No, Mas’r Harry, not if you don’t wish it,” he rejoined, looking at me wonderingly.

“I have a reason, Tom,” I said.  “We can say that we have been exploring, and that will be true, and will satisfy them.”

“You ain’t done with the cave yet, then, Mas’r Harry?”

“No, Tom,” I said, “not yet.”