He burst out laughing. "Indeed, indeed! there is no wonder I laugh," he said; "fancy the notion of taking a 'good-w.i.l.l.y waught' in a place like this! And now," he added, "for a bit of a sketch."

"Don't be long in nibbing it in, then."

Rory was seated on a boulder now, tracing on his page the outlines of those strange, weird pillars that hands of man had never raised nor human eyes gazed upon before. So the silence once more became irksome, and the time seemed long to Ralph, but Rory had finished at last.

Then the two companions, after journeying on somewhat farther, began to awaken the echoes by various shouts; and voices, some coming from a long distance, repeated clearly the last words.

"Let us frighten those ghouls down there by rolling down boulders," said Rory.

"Come on, then," said Ralph; "I've often played at that game."

They had ten minutes of this work. It was evident this hill within a hill, this crater's point, was of depth illimitable from the distant hissing noises which the broken boulders finally emitted.

"It's a regular whispering gallery," said Rory.

"It is, Row. But do let us get back. See, there is already barely light enough to reveal our footsteps."

"Ah! but, my boy," said Rory, "the nearer the car we walk the more light we'll have. And I have just one more surprise for you. You see this little bag?"

"Yes. What is in it--sandwiches?"

"Nay, my Saxon friend! but Bengal fires. Now witness the effects of the grand illumination of the Cave of the King of Ice by us, his two ghouls of a thousand winters!"

The scene, under weird blue lights, pale green or crimson, was really magical. All the transformation scenes ever they had witnessed dwindled into insignificance compared to it.

"I shall remember this to my dying day?" Rory exclaimed.

"And I too!" cried Ralph, entranced.

"Now the finale?" said the artist; "it'll beat all the others! This white light of mine will eclipse the glory of the rest as the morning sun does that of moonlight! It will burn quite a long time, too; I made it last night on purpose."

It was a Bengal fire of dazzling splendour that now was lit, and our heroes themselves were astonished.

"It beats the 'Arabian Nights'!" cried Rory. "Look, look!" he continued, waving it gently to and fro, "the stalact.i.tes seem to dance and move towards us from out the gloom arrayed in robes of transplendent white. Yonder comes the King of Ice himself to bid us welcome."

"Put it out! put it out!" murmured Ralph, with his hand on his brow.

It presently burned out, but lo! the change!--total darkness!

_Rory and Ralph were s...o...b..ind_!

"Oh, boy Rory!" said Ralph, "that brilliant of yours has sealed our fate. It will be hours ere our eyes can be restored, and long before then the darkness of night will have enshrouded us. We are lost!"

"Let us not lose each other, at all events," said Rory, feeling for his friend's arm, and linking it in his own.

"You think we are lost; dear Ralph, I have more hopes. Something within me tells me that we were never meant to end our days in the awful darkness of this terrible cavern. Pa.s.s the night here it is certain we must, but to-morrow will bring daylight, and daylight safety, for be a.s.sured Allan and De Vere will not leave us, unless--"

Here the hope-giver paused.

"Unless," added Ralph--"for I know what you would say--an accident should be imminent--unless they _must_ leave. A balloon needs strange management."

"Even then they will return to seek us by morning light. Do you know what, Ray?" he continued, "our adventures have been too foolhardy.

Providence has punished us, but He will not utterly desert us."

"Hope springs eternal in the human breast."

The lamp of hope was flickering--had, indeed, burned out--in Ralph's heart, but his friend's words rekindled it. Perhaps Rory's true character never shone more clearly out than it did now, for, while trying to cheer his more than friend, he fully appreciated the desperateness of the situation, and had but little hope left in him, except his extreme trust in the goodness of a higher Power.

"Could we not," said Ralph, "all s...o...b..ind as we are, try to grope our way upwards?"

"No, no, no!" cried Rory; "success in that way is all but impossible; and, remember, we have but the trail of our footprints to guide us even by day."

Something of the ludicrous invariably mixes itself up with the most tragic affairs of this world. I have seen the truth of this in the chamber of death itself, in storms at sea, and in scenes where men grappled each other in deadly strife. And it is well it should be so, else would the troubles of this world oftentimes swamp reason itself.

The attempts of Rory to keep his companion in cheer, partook of the nature of the ludicrous, as did the attempts of both of them to keep warm.

So hours elapsed, and sometimes sitting, sometimes standing and beating feet and hands for circulation's sake, and doing much talking, but never daring to leave the spot, at last says Rory, "Hullo, Ray! joy of joys!

I've found a lucifer!"

Almost at the same moment he lit it. They could see each other's faces--see a watch, and notice it was nearly midnight. They had regained sight! Joy and hope were at once restored.

"Troth!" said Rory, resuming his brogue, "it's myself could be a baby for once and cry. Now what do ye say to try to sleep? We'll lie close together, you know, and it's warm we'll be in a jiffey?"

So down they lay, and, after ten long shivering minutes, heat came back to their frozen bodies. They had not been talking all this time; it is but right to say they were better engaged.

With warmth came _le gaiete_--to Rory, at least.

"Have you wound your watch, Ray?"

"No, Row? and I wouldn't move for the world!"

After a pause, "Ray," says Row.

"Yes, Row?" says Ray.

"You always said you liked a big bed-room, Ray, and, troth, you've got one for once!"

"How I envy you your spirits," answers Ray.

"Don't talk about spirits," says Row, "and frighten a poor boy. I've covered up my head, and I wouldn't look up for the world. I'm going to repeat myself to sleep. Good night."

"Good night," asks Ray, "but how do you do it?"

"Psalms, Ray," Row replies. "I know them all. I'll be out of here in a moment.

"'He makes me down to lie by pastures green, He leadeth me the quiet waters by.'

"Isn't that pretty, Ray?"