Then his foot struck some obstacle in the way and he fell.  For a moment he lay there panting and helpless, while the burning cloth, thrown from him in his fall, lighted up the narrow space around him till it grew as clear as day.  But all this splendid glow should not be wasted; it would never do; he must make it light him on his journey till the last ray was gone.

He staggered to his feet again and ran on into the ever growing darkness.  Behind him the flames flared, flickered, and died slowly out, and when the last vestige of light was wholly gone he sank, utterly exhausted, to the floor of the mine, and thick darkness settled on him like a pall.

A long time he lay there wondering vaguely at his strange misfortunes.  The fever in his blood was running high, and, instead of harboring sober thought, his mind was filled with fleeting fancies.

It was very still here, so still that he thought he heard the throbbing in his head.  He wondered if it could be heard by others who might thus find where he lay.

Then fear came on him, fear like an icy hand clutching at his breast, fear that would not let him rest, but that brought him to his feet again and urged him onward.

To die, that was nothing; he could die if need be; but to be shut up here alone, with strange and unseen things hovering about him in the blackness, that was quite beyond endurance.  He was striving to get away from them.  He had not much thought, now, which way he went, he cared little for direction, he wished only to keep in motion.

He had to stop at times to get breath and to rest his limbs, they ached so.  But, whenever he stood still or sat down to rest, the darkness seemed to close in upon him and around him so tightly as to give him pain.  He would not have cared so much for that, though, if it had not been filled with strange creatures who crept close to him to hear the throbbing in his head.  He could not bear that; it compelled him to move on.

He went a long way like this, with his hands before him, stumbling, falling, rising again, stopping for a moment’s rest, moaning as he walked, crying softly to himself at times like the sick child that he was.

Once he felt that he was going down an inclined way, like a long chamber; there had been no prop or pillar on either side of him for many minutes.  Finally, his feet touched water.  It grew to be ankle deep.  He pushed on, and it reached half-way to his knees.  This would never do.  He turned in his tracks to retreat, just saved himself from falling, and then climbed slowly back up the long slope of the chamber.

When he had reached the top of it he thought he would lie down and try not to move again, he was so very tired and sick.

In the midst of all his fancies he realized his danger.  He knew that death had ceased to be a possibility for him, and had come to be more than probable.