"Another nice little piece of your picture puzzle."
Long ago the winds of the ocean had whirled away the mounds of dust, after the ancestors of that buzzard above them had finished their work, but the bones, disturbed a little by the boy's mad flight a year ago, remained, the index-finger still pointing in towards the shadows.
The girl trembled to him. But her courage, and the fascination of those shadows, were greater than her fright. Hand in hand, they passed on into the darkness.
Taking out the little blue box of matches which, like the yellow dog back on the gorge, seemed an odd connecting link between them and the world they had known, the boy lighted the pine-knot he had brought with him. Aided by this unsteady torch, they curved around the elbow of the tunnel, stooping where the roof was low, and straightening as they came into the inner chamber, hallowed by Nature out of the great rock.
"Ooh! what are those?" shrieked Sally.
Far within, two pairs of yellow ovals gleamed like great cat's eyes in the dead of night. They dimly descried the outline of black shapes. Her cry startled them. Something brushed her hair. She fell back panting, against the sides of the cavern which echoed to great, hoarse cries as the black shapes sailed past them.
"Only birds," whispered Ben, "don't be frightened."
But he shook a little, himself.
Upon the walls the flickering torch cast capering shadows—of themselves and a thousand other impish figures which they could not see.
