After finding the packs, Steve pulled them across toward Pitch. “You didn’t know we were going to go through this,” he said. “I should have thought of another flashlight too. It’s my fault as much as yours.”

They found they couldn’t even get the bulbs into the wrenched socket.

Looking into the darkness, Pitch said, “A nice mess. Luckily, we have plenty of matches and we shouldn’t have too much trouble getting back—if we’re careful.”

“Back,” slowly repeated Steve. “Yes, I guess we do have to go back.”

“There’s no other choice,” Pitch said. “We could roam through these tunnels for a long time, I’m afraid, without finding our way to whatever it is that’s at the end of them. If there is an end to them,” he added grudgingly.

Steve didn’t say anything.

“We’ll have to go back to Antago to get better equipment, including flashlights, and then we can return,” Pitch went on. “We’ve licked the hardest part, Steve. It’ll only mean losing a couple of days, and we have plenty of time.”

Plenty of time. No, Steve thought, I don’t have plenty of time at all. I have two weeks before going home. Two days mean a lot to me. And we’ve gone through so much to turn back. We may be very near the end of the tunnel now, he told himself hopefully. It couldn’t just go on and on! Yet he wondered if it did. Did this tunnel only lead to others that would take them still deeper within the yellow stone of Azul Island? What then? The matches soon would be gone. Then there would never be a chance of finding their way back.

“I guess you’re right, Pitch,” he said finally. “We have no choice but to go back.”

Standing up, Pitch put his pack upon his shoulders. “We’d better take the pack along,” he said, “just in case—”

Pitch had left his sentence unfinished, but Steve knew perfectly well what he had meant to say. Just in case they missed the chalked arrows. Just in case they got lost!

Pitch had the large box of matches in his hand. “We really shouldn’t have any trouble,” he said, but there was a grimness to his voice that belied his light tone. “We’ll strike a match every fifty yards or so as we go along. There should be plenty to last. And I have another box if we need them,” he added quickly. “Ready, Steve?”

Strapping the pack to his shoulders and picking up the rope Pitch had dropped when he fell, Steve replied, “Okay, Pitch.”

They had walked only a few steps across the room when Pitch struck the first match. In its glow they saw the pick and shovel. “We’ll leave them behind this time,” Pitch decided.