“I didn’t!” Purdick protested. “S-s-something sus-swallowed it!”
Larry sat up, fumbled in the knapsack that he had stuffed under his head for a pillow, and found matches and a candle-end. When he struck a light, the mystery was explained—partly. In the place where the fire had been there was a round hole possibly three feet in diameter, and out of it a faint wreath of smoke and steam was issuing.
“Well, I’ll be dogged!” Dick exclaimed. “Wouldn’t that jar you? Did it go all at once, Purdy?”
“Right while I was looking at it. First I saw the bed of coals sinking, and then the back-log broke in two in the middle and the ends began to rear up. I thought I must be dreaming.”
“Good, substantial old dream, all right,” said Dick. “Let’s see where that hole goes to, and what made it.”
The “what made it” was evident enough when they crept, rather cautiously, to the edge of the well hole and examined it by the light of the candle. Under the thick bed of leaf mould carpeting the bottom of the small ravine in which they had pitched their night camp there was a layer of ice, the remains of a miniature glacier formed, possibly, many winters before. By the merest chance, their fire had been built over this ice layer and the heat had gradually melted a hole.
“How far down does it go?” Purdick asked, leaning over the brink of the well and trying to look down.
There was no answer to that question. The light of the candle wouldn’t penetrate very far, but as far as it reached it showed the hole still going on down. Larry went to where the jacks were grazing and got one of the picket ropes. Tying a piece of wood to the end of the rope, he lowered it into the hole. As nearly as they could measure, the chasm was about fifteen feet deep. And the stick and the rope came up wet.
“Water in the bottom,” said Larry. “An underground stream; you can hear it splashing. That’s what makes this ravine so dry. Anybody want to go down and get a drink?”
Dick yawned. “I’m too sleepy to go cave-exploring. Let’s make another fire and pigeonhole this thing till morning. It’ll keep, I guess.”