"Don't lose it," he muttered foggily.
"Lose what?"
"Your pieces of eight."
"What do you mean?"
"You just dropped a piece."
"I haven't touched--Val, do--do you feel worse?"
But he had no thought now for his body. If Ricky had not dropped the
money, then what had caused the clink? He ground his cheek against the
clay. _Thud, thud, clink, thud._ That was not water dripping nor coin
rattling. That was the sound of digging. And digging meant--
"Ricky! They're digging! I can hear them!"
Her fingers closed about his free hand until the nails dug into the
flesh. "Where?"
"I don't know. Listen!"
The sound had grown in strength until now, though muffled, it sounded
through that part of the passage still remaining open.
"It comes from this end. From behind that wall. But why should it come
from there?"
"Does it matter? Val, do you suppose they could hear me if I pounded on
the wall at this side?"
"You haven't anything heavy enough to pound with."
"Yes, I have. This package thing that you found. It's quite heavy. Val,
we've got to let them know we're here!"
She crawled away, moving with caution lest she bring on another slide.
That reassuring _thud, thud_ still sounded. Then, after long minutes,
Val heard the answering blow from their side. Three times Ricky struck
before the rhythm of the digging was broken. Then there was silence
followed by three sharp blows.
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