not find him in the one, without doubt he will return by the other to
you."

"You--you'd better take the lantern then," said Chris, with a gulp. "If I
am only going to stand still, I--I shan't want it."

"No, no--" he began.

But she insisted. "Yes, really. You will want it. I will wait for you
here, if you think it best. Only you will promise not to be long?"

"I promise," he said.

"Then be quick and go," she urged, drawing her hand from his. "We must
find him--we must."

But when his back was turned, and she saw him receding from her with the
light, she covered her face and trembled. It was the most horrible
adventure she had ever experienced.

For a long time she heard his footsteps echoing weirdly, but when they
died away at last and she stood alone in the utter, vault-like darkness,
her heart failed her. What if he also lost his way?

The darkness was terrible. It seemed to press upon her, to hurt her.
Through it came the faint sounds of trickling water from all directions
like tiny voices whispering together. Now and then something moved with a
small rustling. It might have been a lizard, a crab, or even a bat. But
Chris thought of snakes and stiffened to rigidity, scarcely daring to
breathe. The roar of the sea sounded remote and far, yet insistent also