CHAPTER 23Matt squirmed ahead. He could pull himself along only a few inches at a time through the rock tube that seemed never to be narrower or wider. He had fastened the belt, with his gear and flashlight attached, around his right arm, which he kept moving ahead of him.
When he stopped every few feet for a breather, he heard Spotty struggling and wheezing behind him. “Take five,” he said, and felt his head sink down on his folded arm. What if the squirmway narrowed and they couldn’t go on? What if it turned into a dead end? What if the oxygen thinned out too much?
“I wish we hadn’t left that cavern,” Spotty said. “It was beginning to feel like home, only better. I mean, no duties or obligations. No work or worries. Just fish for crayfish and sleep.”
“Until the crayfish ran out,” Matt
