When he had done so he found himself on the
edge of a precipice, a place where a solid mass had fallen like a
wall, and had made a shelf so high that the feeble rays of Ralph's
lamp would not reach to the bottom of it. The boy crawled, trembling,
along the edge of this cliff, trying to find some place for descent.
The oil-can that he carried made his movements cumbersome; the surface
of the rock was smooth and hard to cling to; his limbs were weak and
his fingers nerveless.
He slipped, the can fell from his hand, he tried to recover it,
slipped further, made a desperate effort to save himself, failed, and
went toppling over into the darkness.
The height was not very great, and he was not seriously injured by
the fall; but it stunned him, and he lay for some time in a state of
unconsciousness.
When he came to himself, he knew what had happened and where he was.
He tried to rise, but the effort pained him and he lay back again. He
was in total darkness. His lamp had fallen from his cap and become
extinguished. He reached out to try and find it and his hand came in
contact with a little stream of water. The very touch of it refreshed
him. He rolled over, put his mouth to it and drank. It was running
water, cool and delicious, and he was very, very thankful for it.
In the stream he found his lamp. The lid had flown open, the oil was
spilled out, and the water had entered. The can was not within reach
of him as he lay. He raised himself to his hands and knees and groped
around for it.
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