But they were anxious withal; for the success of his comrade's scheme was yet problematical.
With sufficient food and drink to sustain them, they might in time accomplish what they had set about; but wanting these, their strength would soon give way, and then--ah! then-- The guide was still standing on the ledge, pursuing this or a similar train of reflection, when all at once a sight came, not under but above his eyes, which caused him to utter an exclamation of joy.
It was the sight of his comrade's face--only that! But this had in it a world of significance.

He could hot have seen that face without light.

Light had been let into their rock-bound abode, so late buried in the profoundest darkness.
It was but a feeble glimmer, that appeared to have found admission through a tiny crevice under the huge copestone; and Hamersley's face, close to it, was seen only in faint shadow--fainter from the film of smoke yet struggling up the shaft.
Still was it light--beautiful, cheering light--like some shore-beacon seen by the storm-tossed mariner amid the dangers of a night-shrouded sea.
Hamersley had not yet spoken a word to explain what had occurred to cause it.

He had suddenly left off chipping the rock, and was at rest, apparently in contemplation of the soft silvery ray that was playing so benignly upon his features.
Was it the pleasure of once more beholding what he lately thought he might never see again--the light of day?
Was it this alone that was keeping him still and speechless?
No, something else; as he told his comrade when he rejoined him soon after on the ledge.
"Walt," he said, "I've let daylight in, as you see; but I find it'll take a long time to cut a passage out.

It's only the weeds I've been able to get clear of.