"Yes, but how?" I cried.
"Same's they do. Scratch yer way, and make a hole. I don't mind, do
you?"
"Mind!" I said, "it's horrible."
"Is it?" he replied quietly. "Why?"
"Don't you see--"
"No," he said sharply, "not werry well. I can a little."
"But I mean, don't you understand?" I cried in an awe-stricken choking
voice, "that if we don't get out soon, we shall die."
"What, like when you kills a rabbud or a bird?"
"Yes."
"Get out!" he cried in contemptuous tones. "I hadn't finished my
rabbud, and my eyes is half full of sand still."
"Never mind the rabbit," I said angrily, "let's try and dig our way
out."
"Let Ikey do it," he said, "he's got the shovels."
"But will he find out where we are," I cried, for I must own to being
terribly unnerved, and ready to marvel at Shock's coolness.
"Why, of course he will," said Shock. "I say, don't you be frightened.
You don't mind the dark, do you?"
"I don't mind the dark," I replied, "but it's horrible to be shut in
here."
"Why, it's only sand," he said, "only sand, mate."
"But it nearly smothered you," I cried. "It would have smothered you if
I hadn't pulled you out."
"Yes, but that was because it fell atop of my head and held me down,
else it wouldn't. I thought it was your games."
I had never heard Shock talk like this before. Our mutual distress
seemed to have made us friends, and I felt ready to shake hands with him
and hold on by his arm.
"I say," he cried, his voice sounding, like mine, more and more
subdued--at least so it seemed to me--"I say, I weren't looking; it
didn't go down on the dog too--did it?"
"No, Shock, I saw her run away."
There was a few moments' silence and then he said: "Well, I am glad of that. I likes dorgs, and we was reg'lar good
friends."
"Hark!" I said; "is that Ike digging?"
"No," he said; "it was some more sand tumbled down, I think."
I knew he was right, for there was a dull thud, and then another; but
whether inside or outside I could not tell. It made me tremble though;
for I wondered whether I should be able to struggle out if part of the
roof came down upon my head.
All at once Shock began to whistle--not a tune, but something of an
imitation of a blackbird; and as I was envying him his coolness in
danger I heard a scratching noise and saw a line of light. Then there
was another scratch and a series of little sparkles. Another scratch,
and a blue flame as the brimstone on the end caught fire; and then, as
the splint of wood burned up, I could see in the midst of a ring of
light the face of Shock, looking very intent as he bent over the burning
match, and held to it the wick of a little end of a common tallow
candle.