It makes your torches go out,
and then you die. It's called fire-damp, I believe. Come out, I
tell you.'
The urgency of her tone actually brought the boys out--and then
every one took up its jacket and fanned the dark arch with it, so
as to make the air fresh inside. When Anthea thought the air
inside 'must be freshened by now,' Cyril led the way into the arch.
The girls followed, and Robert came last, because Jane refused to
tail the procession lest 'something' should come in after her, and
catch at her from behind. Cyril advanced cautiously, lighting
match after match, and peerIng before him.
'It's a vaulting roof,' he said, 'and it's all stone--all right,
Panther, don't keep pulling at my jacket! The air must be all
right because of the matches, silly, and there are--look out--there
are steps down.'
'Oh, don't let's go any farther,' said Jane, in an agony of
reluctance (a very painful thing, by the way, to be in). 'I'm sure
there are snakes, or dens of lions, or something. Do let's go
back, and come some other time, with candles, and bellows for the
fire-damp.'
'Let me get in front of you, then,' said the stern voice of Robert,
from behind. 'This is exactly the place for buried treasure, and
I'm going on, anyway; you can stay behind if you like.
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