On and on the passage led them, sometimes through places so narrow they could scarcely scramble through, or so low that, small as they were, they were obliged to stoop; now up hill, now down, round many a sharp curve, till it ended suddenly in a small cavern about ten feet square.
Peggy lifted up the lantern high over her head, and looked anxiously round. Apparently they were in nothing but a blind alley, for there seemed no possible way out, except the path by which they had come. The poor children stared at each other with hopeless horror.
'We shall have to go back, and chance the river going down when it's light,' faltered Peggy.
"BOBBY ACCOMPLISHED THE CROSSING IN SAFETY."
'Oh, no, no! We can't go back over that hateful plank again and sit watching the water come up! I would rather be drowned here than there! Oh, Father, Father! do come and find us!' And Bobby sat down upon the ground with such a wail of despair that Peggy at last lost her self-control and found herself joining in his sobs.
But she stopped suddenly, and laying a restraining hand on his shoulder, put up her finger for silence, for it seemed to her that from the region somewhere over their heads she had heard a distant shout.
'Call again, Bobby, like you did before!' And both together the children joined their voices in a wild shriek of 'Father!'
This time there was an unmistakable shout of reply, and after what seemed to them a long interval of calling they could hear Father's voice from above quite plainly saying, 'Where are you?'