I've got the tinder-box, and it has always been too high up to get wet." "I don't care," said Mike desperately; "it's too horrible to be here in the dark." "Not half so horrible as to be in the dark not knowing that you could get a light if you wanted to.

We could if I put it out.

We couldn't if it was all burned." "I don't care, I say once more--I say it must not be put out." "And I say," replied Vince, speaking quite good-humouredly, while his companion's voice sounded husky, and as if he were in a rage--"and I say that if you make any more fuss about it I'll put it out now." As Vince spoke he made a sudden movement, snatched the lanthorn from where it stood by the wall, and tore open the door.
"Now," he cried, catching up a handful of sand, "you come a step nearer, and I'll smother the light with this." Mike had made a dart to seize the lanthorn, but he paused now.
"You coward!" he cried.
"All right: so I am.

I've been in a terrible stew to-day several times, but I'm not such a coward that I'm afraid to put out the light." Mike turned his back and began to imitate his companion in stripping off his wet lower garments, wringing them thoroughly, and spreading them on the dry sand, with which he, too, filled his saturated boots.
Meanwhile Vince was setting him another example--that of raking out a hole in the softest sand, snuggling down into it and drawing it over him all round till he was covered.
"Not half such nice sand as it is in our cave, Ladle," he said.
There was no answer.
"I say, Ladle, don't I look like a cock bird sitting on the nest while the hen goes out for a walk ?" Still there was no reply, and Mike finished his task with his wet garments.
"Sand's best and softest up here," said Vince, taking out the tinder-box from the breast of his jersey and placing it by the lanthorn.
Mike said nothing, but went to the spot Vince had pointed out, scraped himself a hollow, sat down in it quietly, and dragged the sand round.
"Feels drying, like a cool towel, doesn't it ?" said Vince, as if there had been no words between them.
"You can put out the light," said Mike, for answer.
"Hah, yes," replied Vince, taking the lanthorn; "seems a pity, too.

But we shan't hurt here.