like a book in moments of excitement.

Jimmy came in head first

“He did not reveal the dread secret to his faithful followers till one and all had given him their word of honour to be calm.”

“We’ll be calm all right,” said Jimmy impatiently.

“Well, then,” said Gerald, ceasing suddenly to be a book and becoming a boy, “there’s a light over there—look behind you!”

They looked. And there was. A faint greyness on the brown walls of the cave, and a brighter greyness cut off sharply by a dark line, showed that round a turning or angle of the cave there was daylight.

“Attention!” said Gerald; at least, that was what he meant, though what he said was “ ’Shun!” as becomes the son of a soldier. The others mechanically obeyed.

“You will remain at attention till I give the word ‘Slow march!’ on which you will advance cautiously in open order, following your hero leader, taking care not to tread on the dead and wounded.”

“I wish you wouldn’t! said Kathleen.

“There aren’t any,” said Jimmy, feeling for her hand in the dark; “he only means, take care not to tumble over stones and things.”

Here he found her hand, and she screamed.

“It’s only me,” said Jimmy. “I thought you’d like me to hold it. But you’re just like a girl.”

Their eyes had now begun to get accustomed to the darkness, and all could see that they were in a rough stone cave, that went straight on for about three or four yards and then turned sharply to the right.

“Death or victory!” remarked Gerald. “Now, then—Slow march! ”

He advanced carefully, picking his way among the loose earth and stones that were the floor of the cave. “A sail, a sail!” he cried, as he turned the corner.

“How splendid!” Kathleen drew a long breath as she came out into the sunshine.

“I don’t see any sail,” said Jimmy, following.

The narrow passage ended in a round arch all fringed with ferns and creepers. They passed through the arch into a deep, narrow gully whose banks were of stones, moss-covered; and in the crannies grew more ferns and long grasses. Trees growing on the top of the bank arched across, and the sunlight came through in changing patches of brightness, turning the gully to a roofed corridor of goldy-green. The path, which was of greeny-grey flagstones where heaps of leaves had drifted, sloped steeply down, and at the end of it was another round arch, quite dark inside, above which rose rocks and grass and bushes.

“It’s like the outside of a railway tunnel,” said James.

“It’s the entrance to the enchanted castle,” said Kathleen. “Let’s blow the horns.”

“Dry up!” said Gerald. “The bold Captain, reproving the silly chatter of his subordinates—”

“It’s the entrance to the enchanted castle”

“I like that!” said Jimmy, indignant.

“I thought you would,” resumed Gerald—“of his subordinates, bade them advance with caution and in silence, because after all there might be somebody about, and the other arch might be an ice-house cm or something dangerous.”

“What?” asked Kathleen anxiously.

“Bears, perhaps,” said Gerald briefly.

“There aren’t any bears without bars—in England, anyway,” said Jimmy. “They call bears bars in America,” he added absently.

“Quick march!” was Gerald’s only reply.

And they marched. Under the drifted damp leaves the path was firm and stony to their shuffling feet. At the dark arch they stopped.

“There are steps down,” said Jimmy.

“It is an ice-house,” said Gerald.

“Don’t let’s,” said Kathleen.

“Our hero,” said Gerald, “who nothing could dismay, raised the faltering hopes of his abject minions by saying that he was jolly well going on, and they could do as they liked about it.”

“If you call names,” said Jimmy, “you can go on by yourself.” He added, “So there!”

“It’s part of the game, silly,” explained Gerald kindly. “You can be Captain tomorrow, so you’d better hold your jaw now, and begin to think about what names you’ll call us when it’s your turn.”

Very slowly and carefully they went down the steps. A vaulted stone arched over their heads. Gerald struck a match when the last step was found to have no edge, and to be, in fact, the beginning of a passage, turning to the left.

“This,” said Jimmy, “will take us back into the road.”

“Or under it,” said Gerald. “We’ve come down eleven steps.”

They went on, following their leader, who went very slowly for fear, as he explained, of steps. The passage was very dark.

“I don’t half like it!” whispered Jimmy.

Then came a glimmer of daylight that grew and grew, and presently ended in another arch that looked out over