"Maybe not. A little makes a big show on rock. But let's hasten--I'm eager for the end. Any thing--even the knowledge of his death, is better than this suspense." "If he _is_ dead, somebody must pay for it!" gritted Wythe, vindictively. The tunnel was low and narrow, and the explorers had to stoop their heads to avoid the rocky roof. More than once Wythe fancied he could distinguish the trace of tools wielded by human hands upon the soft rock, but other thoughts occupied their minds, though at another time this fact would have excited the deepest curiosity. The tunnel was winding, now sheering abruptly to the right, then again to the left, and several times Wythe paused in doubt, as _two_ passages met his gaze. But a close and cautious scrutiny would show a drop of blood upon the floor of one or the other, and thus guided, the adventurers pressed on, further into the labyrinth, without a thought of their own peril--thinking only of their lost comrade. From first to last, of that day, they exhibited a strange lack of prudence. Their progress, owing to these causes, was slow--far more so than, in their impatience to learn the fate of Jack Tyrrel, they believed--and the winding passage frequently caused them to almost retrace their footsteps. Suddenly Wythe came to the end of the tunnel, and stepped into what seemed a spacious chamber, though he could only judge from the difference in the atmosphere. The torch was of little service, save within a radius of several yards. A few minutes' scouting proved this also to be unoccupied by those they sought. At irregular intervals, around the sides, were several tunnels similar to that from which the men had recently emerged. Exchanging glances, the friends saw that each had begun to despair. After this long and really arduous search, they seemed no nearer the end than at first. "Come," whispered Duplin, rousing himself, "this is only wasting time, when we should be at work. Cheer up--we must find him soon. I know we will--I feel it!" "I hope you are a true prophet," sighed Wythe, brushing the cold damp from his forehead. "But I fear the worst." "Give me the light for awhile, and you take my place. We must search each tunnel until we find the right one." "I fear that will be difficult. I've not noticed any blood-drops for some time. What if we should be wrong? What will become of poor Jack? And--_how are we to find our way back again_?" Duplin started. For the first time he realized the full peril of their situation. Were they not even then lost? Lost in the labyrinth--in the bowels of the earth! And nothing to sustain life--no food, no water! The thought was soul-sickening! "We must not think of that _now_. We've enough to trouble our minds without that. It may all turn out right. But mark the passage we came through. With that to start from, we can find our way back by the blood-stains. Drop my hat there--or a bit of rag, anything will do."