remain where I was, involved consequences far more dangerous than those threatened by this tunnel. It offered a chance, a hope—and I could ask no more.
These were but flashes of thought, for I was climbing before the music ceased, clinging desperately to every slight projection, and bracing myself against the walls. Progress was slow, and occasionally painful; the contracted space gave me a feeling of suffocation, and I dislodged enough soot so I was compelled to struggle constantly to restrain from coughing. My only relief was to bind a handkerchief across mouth and nostrils.
While the music remained silent, I rested, fearful lest my struggles would be overheard, taking such meager comfort as I could. The first blare of the horns started me off once more, careless in the midst of so much noise as to whether I rattled the loosened plaster, or even dislodged an ill-secured stone. But at the best the passage was made by inches, and I took more than one desperate chance of slipping; twice I clung breathless as the music ceased, but the second time I felt convinced I had attained to the level of the upper floor. This was but a decision of judgment, as my only guidance came from the noise below, and the distance which it seemed to me I had clambered up. There was no change in my surroundings as revealed by my groping hands—the same
