Finding no
change on the other side, 'Shall I ever get back?' she thought,
over and over again, wondering at herself that she was not ten
times more frightened, and often feeling as if she were only
walking in the story of a dream. Sometimes she heard the noise of
water, a dull gurgling inside the rock. By and by she heard the
sounds of blows, which came nearer and nearer; but again they grew
duller, and almost died away. In a hundred directions she turned,
obedient to the guiding thread.
At last she spied a dull red shine, and came up to the mica window,
and thence away and round about, and right, into a cavern, where
glowed the red embers of a fire. Here the thread began to rise.
It rose as high as her head and higher still. What should she do
if she lost her hold? She was pulling it down: She might break it!
She could see it far up, glowing as red as her fire-opal in the
light of the embers.
But presently she came to a huge heap of stones, piled in a slope
against the wall of the cavern. On these she climbed, and soon
recovered the level of the thread only however to find, the next
moment, that it vanished through the heap of stones, and left her
standing on it, with her face to the solid rock.
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