and once more went on to
find branch after branch running from the main trunk, if main trunk it
was; but all efforts were vain, and an hour must have gone by, nearly a
quarter of which, at the last, had been here and there along the rugged
gallery, without encountering a branch which showed where another vein
had been followed.

It was very warm, and the slippery moisture of the place produced a
feeling of depression that was fast ripening into despair. At first
they had talked a good deal concerning the probabilities of the
exploring party coming out into the main trunk from one of the branches
they had passed, but, as Gwyn said, they dared not reckon upon this, and
must keep on now they were there. And at last they went trudging on
almost in silence, the tramping of their feet and the quaint echoes
being all that was heard, while three black shadows followed after them
along the rugged floor, like three more explorers watching to see which
way they went.

All at once the silence was broken by Joe, who cried in a sharp, angry
way,--

"Stop! Your candle's going out."

Gwyn stopped without turning, opened the door of the lanthorn, and
uttered an ejaculation.

"Quite true," he said; "burned right down. I'll put in another candle."

The box was opened, a fresh one taken out, its loose wick burned and
blown off in sparks, and then it was lit and stuck in the molten grease
of the socket.

"You had better have another candle in yours, Dinass," said Joe; and he
watched Gwyn's actions impatiently, while the lad carefully trimmed the
wick, and waited till the grease of the socket cooled enough to hold the
fresh candle firm.

"Now," said Joe, "you ought to give another good shout here before we
start again."

There was no reply.

"Well, did you hear what was said?" cried Gwyn, closing and fastening
his lanthorn.

Still there was no answer.

"Here, Tom Dinass," cried Gwyn, raising his lanthorn, as he turned to
look back; "why don't you do what you're told?"

His answer was a sudden snatch at his arm by Joe, who clung to it in a
fierce way.

"What's the matter? Aren't you well? Oh, I say, you must hold up now.
Here, Tom Dinass."

"Gone!" gasped Joe, in a low whisper, full of horror.

"Gone? Nonsense! he was here just now."

"No. It's ever so long since he spoke to us. Gwyn, he has gone back
and left us."

"Left us? What, alone here!" faltered Gwyn, as the grey, sparkling roof
seemed to revolve