ting for nerve.

Help me Tom could not from his position, and had I not stirred myself I
must have fallen at last; but he had well paid the debt he owed me for
my last night's efforts, as I told him when we had cautiously made our
way back up the slope in a diagonal direction to where the rift opened,
to sink down at last, breathless and thankful, in the narrow way; glad
even to be beyond reach of the influence of the horrible gulf, which had
for me an attraction that was appalling.

We were very quiet now, as we half sat, half lay upon the rocky bottom
of the crack, till our strength was somewhat renewed after our late
efforts, when, dragging myself up, I wiped the clammy dew from my
forehead, and Tom followed my example.

"Tom," I exclaimed, "inaction means death. Let's try that hole behind
the fall."

"Right, Mas'r Harry," said Tom, essaying to be cheerful.

And without another word he rose, took his candle from the niche in
which he had placed it, and together we made our way back into the
amphitheatre. Then we climbed over the blocks to behind the fall,
where, going down upon his knees, Tom held his candle in at
arm's-length, and then essayed to creep in at the little opening.

I looked on anxiously as his head and shoulders disappeared, then his
whole body; and I was preparing to follow him when he wriggled himself
back, to face me with a sad shake of the head.

"No good, Mas'r Harry--a baby couldn't go through there."

I took his word, and led the way back till we were clear of the mist
shed by the fall, and then I set to and tried if the great problem of
our escape could not be solved; and at last when all hope was ready to
expire in my bosom the solution came.

We were sitting, sad and dejected, worn by our long toil, when suddenly
we were startled by a shriek similar to those which we had heard upon
our awaking.

Tom pressed close to me, and I must confess to a strange sensation of
awe, as now, one after another, these wild cries came ringing out of the
darkness around. Now near, now far-off, and fading away as it were,
till one was uttered close by my ear, and I saw a shadowy form sweep
past the light shed by our one poor feeble candle; then another and
another; when, angry with myself for my superstitious dread, I exclaimed
aloud:

"Why, they're birds!"

"Birds they are!" cried Tom gently. "But are they real birds, Mas'r
Harry?"

"Real? yes, Tom!" I exclaimed excitedly. "And there must