"I think this has placed us in a putty bad pickle," said old Jacob, seriously.
"What do you mean?" asked Bob. Then his face blanched. "Are we—we—hemmed in?"
"Thet's about the size on it—to my way o' reckonin'."
"Have the fallen rocks really closed up the passageway?" queried Robert Menden.
"O' course we can't say till we investigate, Mr. Menden. But it looks thet way from here," came from the old tar.
They wished to investigate at once; but old Jacob held them back. "More rocks might be a-comin' down. Take yer time—it will pay in the end." And they waited quarter of an hour longer.
At last they crossed the watercourse again and began to climb over the fallen mass, with their torches held aloof, watching for an opening. The climbing was dangerous, and more than once one or another came near to twisting his ankle or having his hand crushed, as the rocks began to settle one over another.
"Here we are!" cried Robert Menden at last, and pointed to an opening some distance away. It was small, and they had to pass through in single file; yet all breathed long sighs of relief when they were on the opposite side.
"I think we have investigated that branch as far as necessary—at least for the present," said Robert Menden. He looked at his watch. "Five o'clock!"
"Reckon we had better make fer the open air," was old Jacob's comment. "We have been down here long enough fer this day;" and the others agreed with him. Hunting for the treasure was not such an agreeable task as they had anticipated.