Another sleep has come and our tiredness is greater. Doctor Dorn thinks
we are about twenty-five miles from Lost City.
After an hour of the walk, we turned off one of the lamps, leaving only
three on, and the blackness of the passage seemed to jump in toward us.
It is like a live and evil thing, the blackness, running in fear from
the light before us, yet following so closely behind. Sometimes I cannot
help feeling that, like the Groles, it is just waiting for our last lamp
to go out so it can rush in and kill us. In one thing we have been
fortunate. Even with only three lamps lighted no one has had the Black
Fear. But after this sleep we will burn only two lamps and again the
blackness will move closer. It is not a pleasant thought to sleep with.
* * * * *