He dropped the lanthorn, though, and it went below, to hang in a crevice upon its side, threatening to go out; but as soon as Sturgess had a little recovered himself and sat down to start wiping his forehead, Reed began to descend. "Don't do that, sir," cried Sturgess hoarsely. "Light your candle." "No; I can get the lanthorn," said Reed quietly; and he went on descending cautiously till, getting well hold of the nearest projecting fragment with his left hand, he bent down lower and lower to try and reach the handle of their lamp. But, try how he would, it was always a few inches beyond his reach; and at last, with the candle within guttering, flaring, and blackening the glass, threatening to crack it and then go out, Reed drew himself up again to try and get a fresh footing upon the side of the chasm. He looked up to see, faintly, a white face gazing down at him, and, as their eyes met, the man said hoarsely-- "Don't do that, sir. Come up and light a fresh bit. If you slip, I shall be all in darkness. It's horrid to have to come to one's end in a place like this." "Sympathy for himself, and not for me," thought Reed. "I have the lights." Just at that moment he noted something just level with where he stood, where there was a plain demarcation between two kinds of stone; and, whereas on the left all was shelly fossil, on his right it was limestone; and again, with a sparkling and gem-like vein of quartz full of great crystals of galena. "Do you hear, sir? Come back here, and let's get out of this," cried Sturgess again. "It arn't fair to a man to bring him into such a hole. This isn't a mine." "My good fellow," said Reed quietly, "you are alarming yourself about nothing. I can get the lanthorn directly, and it is a pity to leave it here." The miner uttered a hoarse sigh which was almost a groan, and crouched on the rugged shelf, looking down with starting eyes, as Reed glanced quickly once more at the face of the rock, and then, taking fast hold of another projection, he tried again to get a little lower, and had looked beyond the lanthorn, to see that he was on a very rapid slope, going down to unknown depths for aught that he could tell; for all below the dim light was black--a terrible void, out of which came the splash and roar of falling water. He could not help a shudder as his mind raised up horrors in connection with that black darkness, and the possibility of his falling and going down and down into some rushing water which was waiting to bear him away. But it was only a momentary nervousness. Then he smiled to himself, and thought of home and of Janet Praed--how horrified she would be if she could see him then. "And nothing whatever to mind but imaginary fears," he said to himself. "Stop a minute, sir," came in a hoarse whisper from above. "Give me the matches and candles, and I'll strike another light." "And then I go to perdition for aught you care," thought Clive Reed. "No, hang me if I do."