emed very probable; so he remained silent,
listening intently for the faintest sound.

But the silence was more terrible than ever, and, saving the musical
dash of water from time to time, and an occasional rustle as of a few
grains of earth or sand trickling down from the walls, all was still.

"Hear him coming back?" said Gwyn, at last, very dismally.

"No, but there is something I keep hearing. Can't you?"

"I? No," said Gwyn, quickly. "What can you hear?--footsteps?"

"Oh, no; not that. It's a humming, rolling kind of noise, very, very
faint; and I can't always hear it. I'm not sure it is anything but a
kind of singing in my ears. There, I can hear it now. Can you?"

Gwyn listened intently.

"No. Perhaps it is only fancy. Listen again. Oh, that dog must come
back."

Joe sat down, with the lanthorn beside him.

"Oh, don't give up like that!" cried Gwyn. "Let's make a fresh start,
and try and find our way out."

"It's impossible--we can't without help."

"Don't I always tell you that a chap oughtn't to wait to be helped, but
try to help himself?"

"Yes, you often preach," said Joe, dismally.

"Yes, and try too. Why, I--Ah! hear that?" cried Gwyn, excitedly.

"No," said Joe, after a pause.

"Don't be so stupid! You can--Listen!"

They held their breath, and plainly now came the barking of a dog.

"There!" cried Gwyn. "Here, here, here!" and he whistled before
listening again, when there was the pattering of the dog's nails on the
rocky floor, and almost directly after Grip bounded up to them.

"Ah, we mustn't have any more of that, old fellow," cried Gwyn, seizing
the dog's collar, and patting him. "Get on, you old rascal; can't you
see we've only got two legs apiece to your four?"

The dog strained to be off again, barking excitedly; but Gwyn held on
while their neckerchiefs were tied together, and then fastened to the
dog's collar.

"Now, then, forward once more. Come on, Joe, you must carry the
lanthorn and walk by his head. Steady, stupid! We can't run. Walk,
will you? Now, then, forward for home."

The dog barked and went off panting, with his tongue out and glistening
in the light as the red end was curled, and he strained hard, as if
bound to drag as much as he could behind him, while the boys' spirits
steadily rose as their confidence in the dog's knowledge of the way back
began to increase.

CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR.

TOO EAGER BY HALF.

"Think the candle will