carry matches, as some boys'
fathers do. The father of Robert and Cyril only insisted on the matches
being of the kind that strike only on the box.

'It's not a door, it's a sort of tunnel,' Robert cried to the girls,
after the first match had flared up, flickered, and gone out. 'Stand
off--we'll push some more stones down!'

They did, amid deep excitement. And now the stone heap was almost
gone--and before them the girls saw the dark archway leading to unknown
things. All doubts and fears as to getting home were forgotten in this
thrilling moment. It was like Monte Cristo--it was like--

'I say,' cried Anthea, suddenly, 'come out! There's always bad air in
places that have been shut up. 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.'

And then, of course, Jane consented to go on.

So, very slowly and carefully, the children went down the steps--there
were seventeen of them--and at the bottom of the steps were more
passages branching four ways, and a sort of low arch on the right-hand
side made Cyril wonder what it could be, for it was too low to be the
beginning of another passage.

So he knelt down and lit a match, and stooping very low he peeped in.

'There's SOMETHING,' he said, and reached out his