.. it grows bigger ... a shriek ... a wild waving
of a blazing garish torch, and again I have to compress myself against
the barrels as another trolly whizzes past at full speed, carrying two
cheerful-looking, and except for that one shout, silent demons. "Hey
trolly lolly!" I cannot stay there--they have gone like a flash--and
the obscurity is becoming oppressive.... Shall I retrace my steps?
It isn't a question of "shall I,"--it is "_can I"?_ Through how many
turnings have we come? No--I should never find my way back again.
Better push on. I shout again: desperately but nervously. There is
not even an echo. And now my candle, which has been guttering and
sputtering for the last few moments, is threatening dissolution. It
is the beginning of the end--of the candle-end. If the candle goes out
before I do--Heavens! but I must move very cautiously. What a subject
for a Jules-Verne novel! _Ah, how I should enjoy reading about it in
a story!!_ But as a personal experience ... Where am I? Is it straight
on? or to the left?--I think there is a left passage--or to the right?
I peer down in the hopes of seeing some evidence of life, at all
events the glimmer of a light, which may probably mean my guide.
No; not a sign. Are there rats here? If so.... the candle-end is
sputtering worse than ever .
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