"Why, your face is white as white, and your hair's all wet." "Yes," gasped Mike hysterically, "and so's yours.

Oh, Cinder, old chap, I thought you had gone! Let's get away from this horrid place.

Old Joe's right: there is something terrible about it after all." "Wait a bit," said Vince, rather feebly, as he too crouched down upon a piece of rock.

"I don't feel as if I could move much for a bit.

I am so stiff and weak, and this rope's cut into my chest.