"I am glad that you object to that, because I hate such trouble. Well, to business. First, write a line saying that this is your own deed. The men reverence you so that they might make trouble were they to think I had killed you." Without a word, Mabel did as directed. Then again turned toward the ice-hearted monster. He knew not what mercy meant, else he would have relented at that look of ineffable love. "Well--you are waiting for--?" Mabel moved round and knelt beside him. He frowned, thinking she meant to plead for her life. Instead, she wound her arms around him, and pressed her lips to his, in a long, lingering, farewell kiss. Then she rose erect. The bright poniard flashed in the lamp-light. It sunk to the hilt in her warm bosom. Slowly she sunk to her knees, her eyes riveted upon his, and with that look of love, died! CHAPTER XI. THROUGH GLOOM TO LIGHT. The discovery made by Burr Wythe was a heart-crushing one coming just as it did, when they believed that freedom was now within their grasp. And for a time the two friends sunk helpless beneath the blow. But the reaction came soon. It was foreign to their natures to submit without a struggle, at any time much less now, when to yield meant _death_--death the most horrible; by starvation. They carefully worked with their fingers around the edge of what had once been the entrance. Only hard rock was there; not a particle of earth to give them renewed hope of cutting their way to the outer world by persistent use of their strong-bladed knives. "'Tis of no use, Duplin," at length muttered Wythe, brushing the great drops from his brow. "We are blocked in--we must die here like dogs!" "It seems so. All around the mouth seems solid rock. But who can have blocked it up? Not that one we fired at? Surely what one man could place there, two could roll away." "It must be the big rock that stood just above the hole. It could be rolled over, I think. If so, fifty men couldn't raise it now." "Well, one thing is settled. Whoever closed this entrance wished for our death. Thus it's not likely we have any thing to hope from them. So we must depend upon ourselves, if we hope to ever see daylight again," thoughtfully added Duplin. "Yes--but what can we do? We have no light, no food, no drink. We might as well sit down here and die, at once, as to wander blindly on through these winding passages that seem to end nowhere." "Come--this is pure folly, Burr. Though I admit that the case looks hard, very hard, I will not knock under so easy. We may as well _try_ for life, even though we fail, as to sit here idly bemoaning our fate. Time will pass easier and quicker while we are busy. I am going to fight for it as long as I can. Then--when I can stand it no longer--the thirst and hunger, I mean--why, I have a revolver, well loaded, here. You understand?"