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 al