Page:Young Hunters in Porto Rico.djvu/241

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WHAT BECAME OF DICK.
237

twenty feet wide by three times as long. To one side the roof sloped downward, and here there appeared to be another opening, running to some higher level.

"Anyway to get out," thought Dick, and scrambled up the slope. It was rough, and more than once he went down; but he picked himself up quickly and went on.

The upper chamber gained, the youth saw before him a long and winding gallery, moving gradually to a still higher level. Should he follow this?

Again he prayed for Divine aid, and then went on, over loose rocks and across ugly cracks. The driftwood had nearly burnt itself out, and his fingers were blistered in several places from holding it. Soon he would be in darkness again, and what should he do, then? He looked around for something more that might be lighted, but nothing showed itself.

On and on, and still on, following one turn after another. Now the driftwood had flickered down to the last dead twig. He tried to save the tiny flame—but with a flicker it went out—and all became as black as night around him—yes, even blacker than night.

He sank down on a rock, almost stunned. All of the stories of people lost in caves and coal mines that he had ever heard about, crossed his