Could his string have led him wrong? He still followed winding it,
and still it led him into more thickly populated quarters, until he
became quite uneasy, and indeed apprehensive; for although he was
not afraid of the cobs, he was afraid of not finding his way out.
But what could he do? It was of no use to sit down and wait for
the morning - the morning made no difference here. It was dark,
and always dark; and if his string failed him he was helpless. He
might even arrive within a yard of the mine and never know it.
Seeing he could do nothing better he would at least find where the
end of his string was, and, if possible, how it had come to play
him such a trick. He knew by the size of the ball that he was
getting pretty near the last of it, when he began to feel a tugging
and pulling at it. What could it mean? Turning a sharp corner, he
thought he heard strange sounds. These grew, as he went on, to a
scuffling and growling and squeaking; and the noise increased,
until, turning a second sharp corner, he found himself in the midst
of it, and the same moment tumbled over a wallowing mass, which he
knew must be a knot of the cobs' creatures.
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