“Boys, it can’t be done!” he exclaimed seriously. “We’ll need help to get out of here—some one at the top with a rope.”
“Then we’d better yell for help,” suggested Ned. “Tinny and Bill, to say nothing of Professor Snodgrass, may be out in search of us. The miner will have been sure to mention that we were coming here. Let’s yell.”
This they did until their throats ached, but no answering shouts came to them, and down in the pit there were no echoes. Again and again they cried for help. At last, when it was almost dark, Bob suggested:
“Let’s eat!”
“Might as well,” agreed Jerry, with no thought now of making fun of Chunky.
“But we’ll be thirsty, and there’s no water here,” objected Ned.
However, there was no help for it, and though thirst plagued the boys when they had munched the dry sandwiches, they bore their sufferings patiently.
It began to grow cool—cold, in fact—and they had no shelter and no covering. It had been hot when they set out, but with the going down of the sun, cool winds swept down into the pit.
“We must keep up yelling,” said Jerry, after a gloomy pause. “No telling when Tinny and his men may come this way.”