, I'll go along, so there!"

"But you needn't if you don't wish to," protested the youth. "I am not
afraid to go alone."

"But I am a-going, and we'll sink or swim together, Larry. Who else
goes?"

Dan Leroy, looked from one face to the next. But not another prisoner
spoke, for each had taken a short walk to the rear caves and seen
quite enough of them. Then a guard came in, and the strange meeting
broke up immediately.

The prisoners lay down to rest, but not one of them could go to sleep.
All of the others were waiting for Larry and Leroy's departure. At
last, satisfied that all was right for the night, the guard went
outside, to join several of his companions around the camp-fire.

"Now, then," whispered Larry, and arose, to be followed immediately by
Dan Leroy. The kettle secured, they hurried for the rear of the outer
cave, without so much as looking at the others, who raised up to watch
their shadowy disappearance.

The flight for liberty had begun. Would it succeed or fail?

CHAPTER XXV

THE CAVES UNDER THE MOUNTAIN

For a distance of five hundred feet the way was known to both Larry
and his sailor friend, and the pair passed along swiftly, guided in
part by the flickering rays from the camp-fire outside of the main
cave.

"Have a care now, lad," whispered Leroy, as they reached a narrow
passage, which turned first to the left and then upward. "The roof is
low, and you don't want for to dash your brains out on the rocks."

"Never fear but I'll be as careful as I can," responded the youth,
feeling his way along. "Better keep close, Leroy, that we don't become
separated."

The turn made, it was no easy matter to ascend the sloping floor, with
here and there a rough bowlder to cross, or a hollow in which one
might fall and break a leg without half trying, as the _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, an