Part 33 (2/2)
”Wonder where all the water is coming from?” Ricky s.h.i.+vered.
”Down from the garden. Come on, I think it's safe to have a light now.”
Ricky must have been holding the torch upward when she pressed the b.u.t.ton, for the round circle of light appeared on the supporting timbers above the door. They both looked up, fascinated for a moment. The old oak had been laid in a crisscross pattern, the best support possible in the days when the vaults had been made.
”How wet--” began Ricky.
Val cried out suddenly and struck at her. The blow sent her sprawling some three or four feet back in the pa.s.sage. There might be time yet to cover her body with his own, he planned desperately, before--
The sound of slipping earth was all about them as Val flung himself toward Ricky. As he thrust blindly at her body, rolling her back farther into the tunnel, he felt the first clod strike full upon his shoulder.
Ricky's complaining whimper was the last thing he heard clearly. For in the dark was the crash of breaking timber.
He was felled by a stroke across the upper arm, and then came a chill darkness in which he was utterly swallowed up.
CHAPTER XV
PIECES OF EIGHT--RALESTONES' FATE!
Through the dull roaring which filled his ears Val heard a sharp call:
”Val! Val, where are you? Val!”
He stared up into utter blackness.
”Val!”
”Here, Ricky!” But that thin thread of a whisper surely didn't belong to him. He tried again and achieved a sort of croak. Something moved behind him and there was an answering rattle of falling clods.
”Val, I'm afraid to move,” her voice wavered unsteadily. ”It seems to be falling yet. Where are you?”
The boy tried to investigate, only to find himself more securely fastened than if he had been scientifically bound. And now that the mists had cleared from him, his spine and back felt a sharp pain to which he was no stranger. From his breast-bone down he was held as if in a vise.
”Are you hurt, Ricky?” He formed the words slowly. Every breath he drew thrust a red-hot knife between his ribs. He turned his head toward her, pillowing his cheek on the gritty clay.
”No. But where are you, Val? Can't you come to me?”
”Sorry. Un--unavoidably detained,” he gasped. ”Don't try any crawling or the rest may come down on us.”
”Val! What's the matter? Are you hurt?” Her questions cut sharply through the darkness.
”Banged up a little. No”--he heard the rustle which betrayed her movements--”don't try to come to me--Please, Ricky!”
But with infinite caution she came, until her brother felt the edge of her cape against his face. Then her questing hand touched his throat and slid downward to his shoulders.
”Val!” He knew what horror colored that cry as she came upon what imprisoned him.
”It's all right, Ricky. I'm just pinned in. If I don't try to move I'm safe.” Quickly he tried to rea.s.sure her.
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