Cormorant Crag Part 26

"And I'm sure that we ought to go back."

"I shan't go back!"

"And I shan't go forward!" cried Mike angrily.

"All right, then: I shan't go back. Only mind how you go, old chap: those places where we had to creep down are rather awkward, and you may take the skin off your nose."

"What do you mean by that?" cried Mike.

"Only that I've got the candle," said Vince, laughing. "I'll come and see you to-morrow, and bring you something to eat, for you'll never find your way out again in the dark."

"But I'm not going in the dark, old clever!" cried Mike, s.n.a.t.c.hing the lanthorn suddenly from his companion. "How now?"

"So how!" cried Vince, springing at him, and seizing the light structure of tin and horn.

Then there was a sharp struggle, the two lads swaying here and there in the narrow place, till Vince flung his companion heavily against the wall, giving him so violent a jar as he clung to the lanthorn that the candle was jumped out of its socket, fell over against the side, and before the boys could even think of getting the door open, the light flashed upon their startled faces and went out.

"You've done it now," cried Mike, in a dolorous tone.

"Oh, come, I like that," said Vince. "Who s.n.a.t.c.hed the lanthorn away?

Wait till we get out, and you'll see what I'll give you."

"Get out the tinder-box quickly," said Mike.

"What for? Suppose I want you to s.n.a.t.c.h it away? I'm going on in the dark, same as you're going back."

"Don't be an idiot," cried Mike, who was growing desperate. "Get out the tinder-box and strike a light."

"Good-night," replied Vince tauntingly; "I'm off. Shall I tell them you'll be home to-morrow?"

For answer Mike sprang at him and grasped him tightly.

"No, you don't play me that trick," he cried. "Get out that tinder-box at once."

"Not I," cried Vince.

"Get out that tinder-box at once!"

"Do you want to make me savage?" growled Vince. "I don't care what I make you now," cried Mike. "You're going to strike a light, so that we can find our way out."

"I'm not going to strike a light and go back to please you, Ladle, and so I tell you," said Vince, holding his companion at arm's length, with his teeth set, and a strong desire rising in him to double his fists and strike. "Give me the flint and steel," cried Mike fiercely. For answer Vince wrenched himself free, thrust out his hands, and, guiding himself by the wall, backed softly away and stood motionless, listening to Mike's movements. Then, stooping, he picked up a stone and pitched it over where he supposed Mike to be standing, with the result that it clattered down on the floor.

His anger had evaporated, and his face relaxed into a grin, for his ruse took effect directly. Judging that the noise was made by Vince backing from him, and in his horror and confusion mistaking his way, Mike thrust out his hands and went in the direction of the sound, while, under cover of the noise made, Vince backed still farther, moving as silently as he could.

"Now then," cried Mike, from fully thirty yards away, "it's of no use,-- I have you. No more nonsense: take out that box and strike a light."

Vince turned aside to smother his laughter, then turned back to listen.

"Do you hear me?" cried Mike, in a hoa.r.s.e, excited tone. "You'll be sorry for this. See if I come out with you again!"

Vince remained perfectly still, listening while he heard Mike make a short dash or two in the darkness as if to seize him, kicking up the stones on the floor and once more threatening what he would do when he got hold of his companion again.

Then he shouted louder, his voice echoing along the pa.s.sage; and at last from far back in the darkness he groaned out:

"Vince! Vince, old chap, don't leave me here all alone!"

That appeal went home to Vince's heart at once.

"Who's going to?" he cried rather huskily. "Come on. This way, old obstinate. Mr Deane's quite right: he always said you would have your own way, even if you knew you were wrong."

"But I am so sure, Cinder--I am indeed," cried the lad, piteously. "It is this way--it is indeed! Oh, do strike a light!"

"There now! I'm going to show you how wrong you are," said Vince triumphantly.

"Not now: let's get out of this dreadful place."

"'Tisn't a dreadful place; it's only you scaring yourself about nothing, same as I did. It's this way. Come along."

"Yes, I'll come," said Mike meekly; "only don't go far, and then let's get back. But do strike a light."

"What for? There's no need. Come along, close up to me."

Mike came, blindly feeling his way, till he touched his companion, and his hands closed tightly upon Vince's shoulder and arm.

"There!" cried Vince, "look straight before you. What can you see?"

Mike uttered a cry of joy, for right upward, and apparently at a great distance, there was a feeble light, and a minute or two later the two lads were beneath the matted roofing of brambles, through which the bright evening glow was streaming. Directly after, they were out upon the surrounding stones, carefully scanning the ridge, to see if they had been observed. But the place was absolutely solitary, and, after hiding the lanthorn down in the rift, the lads started for home in silence, Mike feeling annoyed and aggrieved, while Vince's breast was full of triumphant satisfaction.

"I say," he said, as they reached at last a little opening in among the scrub oak trees, "are we two going to have it out before we go home?"

"No," said Mike shortly.

"Oh! all right, then; only you didn't speak or make any apology when you knew you were wrong."

"Yes," said Mike, after an interval, "I know I was wrong. I'm very sorry, Vince."

"So am I," said the latter, "and something worse."

Mike looked at him wonderingly.

"Yes, ever so much: I'm about half-starved."

Mike made no reply, but walked on in silence for some time, and it was not until they were near home that he turned again and held out his hand.

"I'm very sorry, Vince," he said.

"What about?" cried Vince.

"That we had such a row."