Rudolph,
standing as in a well, heard a volley of questions and a few timid
answers, before the returning legs of his comrade warned him to dodge
back into the tunnel.
Again the two men crept forward on their expedition; and this time the
leader talked without lowering his voice.
"That chap," he declared, "was fairly chattering with fright. Coolie, it
seems, who came back to find his betel-box. The rest are all outside
eating their rice. We have a clear track."
They stumbled on their powder-sacks, caught hold, and dragged them, at
first easily down the incline, then over a short level, then arduously
up a rising grade, till the work grew heavy and hot, and breath came
hard in the stifled burrow.
"Far enough," said Heywood, puffing. "Pile yours here."
Rudolph, however, was not only drenched with sweat, but fired by a new
spirit, a spirit of daring. He would try, down here in the bowels of the
earth, to emulate his friend.
"But let us reconnoitre," he objected. "It will bring us to the clay-pit
where I saw them digging. Let us go out to the end, and look."
"Well said, old mole!" Heywood snapped his fingers with delight.
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