The rock-walled chamber was atremble; they heard a sullen, distant roaring, and as Aldous caught Joanne's hand and sprang toward the tunnel the roar grew into a deafening crash, and a gale of wind rushed into their faces, blowing out the lantern, and leaving them in darkness.

The mountain seemed crumbling about them, and above the sound of it rang out a wild, despairing cry from Joanne's lips.

For there was no longer the brightness of sunshine at the end of the tunnel, but darkness--utter darkness; and through that tunnel there came a deluge of dust and rock that flung them back into the blackness of the pit, and separated them.
"John--John Aldous!" "I am here, Joanne! I will light the lantern!" His groping hands found the lantern.

He relighted it, and Joanne crept to his side, her face as white as the face of the dead.

He held the lantern above him, and together they stared at where the tunnel had been.