"Wait," Val cautioned her, "we had better see how the land lies before
we go out in the open."
They stood listening. Save for the constant drip, drip of water, there
was no sound.
"I guess it's clear," he said.
"Wonder where all the water is coming from?" Ricky shivered.
"Down from the garden. Come on, I think it's safe to have a light now."
Ricky must have been holding the torch upward when she pressed the
button, for the round circle of light appeared on the supporting timbers
above the door. They both looked up, fascinated for a moment. The old
oak had been laid in a crisscross pattern, the best support possible in
the days when the vaults had been made.
"How wet--" began Ricky.
Val cried out suddenly and struck at her. The blow sent her sprawling
some three or four feet back in the passage. There might be time yet to
cover her body with his own, he planned desperately, before--
The sound of slipping earth was all about them as Val flung himself
toward Ricky. As he thrust blindly at her body, rolling her back farther
into the tunnel, he felt the first clod strike full upon his shoulder.
Ricky's complaining whimper was the last thing he heard clearly. For in
the dark was the crash of breaking timber.
He was felled by a stroke across the upper arm, and then came a chill
darkness in which he was utterly swallowed up.
CHAPTER XV
PIECES OF EIGHT--RALESTONES' FATE!
Through the dull roaring which filled his ears Val heard a sharp call:
"Val! Val, where are you? Val!"
He stared up into utter blackness.
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