all was the great white gem, which the dwarves had found beneath the
     “The Arkenstone! The Arkenstone!” murmured Thorin in the dark, half
dreaming with his chin upon his knees. “It was like a globe with a
thousand facets; it shone like silver in the firelight, like water in
the sun, like snow under the stars, like rain upon the Moon!”
     But the enchanted desire of the hoard had fallen from Bilbo. All
through their talk he was only half listening to them. He sat nearest
to the door with one ear cocked for any beginnings of a sound without,
his other was alert or echoes beyond the murmurs of the dwarves, for
any whisper of a movement from far below.
     Darkness grew deeper and he grew ever more uneasy. “Shut the door!” he
begged them. “I fear that dragon in my marrow. I like this silence far
less than the uproar of last night. Shut the door before it is too
late!” Something in his voice gave the dwarves an uncomfortable
feeling. Slowly Thorin shook off his dreams and getting up he kicked
away the stone that wedged the door. Then they thrust upon it, and it
closed with a snap and a clang. No trace of a keyhole was there left
on the inside. They were shut in the Mountain!
     And not a moment too soon. They had hardly gone any distance down the
tunnel when a blow smote the side of the Mountain like the crash of