Winston went
with them, keeping carefully away from the fellow he supposed to be
foreman of the gang, and hanging back, under pretence of having
difficulty in lighting his lamp, until the others had preceded him some
distance along the echoing gallery. The yellow flaring of their lights
through the intense darkness proved both guidance and warning, so he
moved cautiously forward, counting his steps, his hand feeling the
trend of the side wall, his lamp unlit. The floor was rough and
uneven, but dry, the tunnel apparently having been blasted through
solid rock, for no props supporting the roof were discernible. For
quite an extended distance this entry ran straight away from the foot
of the shaft--directly south he made it--into the heart of the
mountain; then those twinkling lights far in advance suddenly winked
out, and Winston groped blindly forward until he discovered a sharp
turn in the tunnel.
He lingered for a moment behind the protection of that angle of rock
wall, struck a safety match, and held the tiny flame down close against
the face of his pocket compass.
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