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heaven could not have come to our ears in our living tomb. We were cut
off from every echo of the world--we were as men already in the grave.

Then the irony of the situation forced itself upon me. There around us
lay treasures enough to pay off a moderate national debt, or to build a
fleet of ironclads, and yet we would have bartered them all gladly for
the faintest chance of escape. Soon, doubtless, we should be rejoiced
to exchange them for a bit of food or a cup of water, and, after that,
even for the privilege of a speedy close to our sufferings. Truly
wealth, which men spend their lives in acquiring, is a valueless thing
at the last.

And so the night wore on.

"Good," said Sir Henry's voice at last, and it sounded awful in the
intense stillness, "how many matches have you in the box?"

"Eight, Curtis."

"Strike one and let us see the time."

He did so, and in contrast to the dense darkness the flame nearly
blinded us. It was five o'clock by my watch. The beautiful dawn was now
blushing on the snow-wreaths far over our heads, and the breeze would
be stirring the night mists in the hollows.

"We had better eat something and keep up our strength," I suggested.

"What is the good of eating?" answered Good; "the sooner we die and get
it over the better."

"While there is life there is hope," said Sir Henry.

Accordingly we ate and sipped some water, and another period of time
elapsed. Then Sir Henry suggested that it might be well to get as near
the door as possible and halloa, on the faint chance of somebody
catching a sound outside. Accordingly Good, who, from long practice at
sea, has a fine piercing note, groped his way down the passage and set
to work. I must say that he made a most diabolical noise. I never heard
such yells; but it might have been a mosquito buzzing for all the
effect they produced.

After a while he gave it up and came back very thirsty, and had to
drink. Then we stopped yelling, as it encroached on the supply of water.

So we sat down once more against the chests of useless diamonds in that
dreadful inaction which was one of the hardest circumstances of our
fate; and I am bound to say that, for my part, I gave way in despair.
Laying my head against Sir Henry's broad shoulder I burst into tears;
and I think that I heard Good gulping away on the other side, and
swearing hoarsely at himself for doing so.

Ah, how good and brave that great man was! Had we been two frightened
chi