CHAPTER THIRTY.
NEARING DAWN.
The two lads stood there motionless for a time, wondering what the lantern-bearer could be doing, for he evidently had no suspicion of his being watched.

Then as they saw that in place of gleaming over the water, the lantern was once more in motion, they crouched down, with their eyes alone over the edge of the clean-cut chasm, feeling that whoever it was must pass just beneath them, when they would be able to see which way he went, and so gain a clue to the robbers' hold.
The light came nearer, and it was plain that whoever bore it was coming very slowly, but they grasped the reason directly, for he was passing over a flooring of slippery crystals, and as he came on they could hear him breathing hard.
As they had anticipated, he came very close beneath them, and Mark felt that if he looked up they would be seen.

But he whom they watched walked stooping, and letting the light fall upon the glittering ascending floor, so that at last he was not six feet below them, and Mark said in a quick whisper: "Sir Morton!" "Great Heavens!" came back in company with a sharp crash, as of an earthenware pitcher falling in shivers upon the rocky floor.
"Hush!" "Who is it ?" "Friends," whispered Mark.
"Thank Heaven! At last--at last," came up, with a piteous groan, and they heard a heavy fall.
"Quick, Dummy," whispered Mark.

"We must go down to him." "Listen first," said the boy: "p'r'aps some one heard." But as he spoke there was the sound of a hoarse laugh from a long distance off, and Dummy whispered: "Didn't hear.

Been to fetch water, and broke the pitcher.