Yorktown sailor said. Presently Leroy called a halt.
"Better light the torch now, Larry."
"I was going to save it," was the reply. "There is no telling how long we may have to depend upon it."
"That is true; but it's no longer safe to walk in this pitchy darkness."
Leroy was provided with matches, used in smoking his pipe, which had not been denied him, and striking one he set fire to an end of the dry cedar branch which Larry had laid away over a week before, when the thought of running away had first crossed his mind. At the start the branch spluttered wofully and threatened to go out, but by coaxing it remained lit, and presently burst into a flame that was sufficient to see by for a circle of twenty or thirty feet.
On they plodded, up an incline that seemed to have no end, and then around another turn. Here the chamber widened out, and beyond there were branches, two to the left and one to the right.
"This is as far as I've ever been," said the boy. "The passages beyond seemed to lead downward for part of the way, and it's impossible to judge
