e tried to reassure her.

"Val, don't lie to me now--you're hurt!"

"It's not bad, really, Ricky--"

"Oh!" There was a single small cry and a moment of utter silence and
then a hurried rustling.

"Here." Her hand groped for his head. "I've wadded up my cape. Can I
slip it under your head?"

"Better not try just yet. Anything might send off the landslide again.
Just--just give me a minute or two to--to sort of catch my breath."
Catch his breath, when every sobbing gasp he drew was a stab!

"Can't we--can't I lift some of the stuff off?" she asked.

"No. Too risky."

"But--but we can't stay here--" Her voice trailed off and it was then
that she must have realized for the first time just what had happened to
them.

"I'm afraid we'll have to, Ricky," said her brother quietly.

"But, Val--Val, what if--if--"

"If we aren't found?" he put her fear into words. "But we will be.
Rupert is doubtless moving a large amount of earth right now to
accomplish that."

"Rupert doesn't know where we are." She had regained control of both
voice and spirit. "We--we may never be found, Val."

"I was a fool," he stated plainly a fact which he now knew to be only
too true.

"I would have come even if you hadn't, Val," she answered generously and
untruthfully. It was perhaps the kindest thing she had ever said.

Now that the noise of the catastrophe had died away they could hear
again the drip of water. And that sound tortured Val's dry throat. A
glass of cool water--He turned his head restlessly.

"If we only had a light," came Ricky's wish.

"The flash is probably buried."

"Val, will--will it be fun?"

"What?" he demanded, suddenly alert at her tone. Had the dark and their
trouble made her light-headed?

"Being a ghost. We--we could walk the hall with Great-uncle Rick; he
wouldn't begrudge us that."

"Ricky! Stop it!"

Her answering laugh, though shaky, was sane enough.

"I do pick the wrong times to display my sense of humor, don't I? Val,
is it so very bad?"

Something within him crumbled at that question.

"Not so good, Lady," he replied in spite of the resolutions he had made.

She brushed back the hair glued by perspiration to his forehead. Ricky
was not gold, he thought, for gold is a rather dirty thing. But she was
all steel, as clean and shining as a blade fresh from the hands of a
master armorer. He made a great effort and found that he could move his
right arm an inch or two. Concentrating all his