"I hadn't thought of it in that light. I guess you're right, though, Chunky."
"Well, he went out on the rocks and motioned to me. I told him I couldn't leave the ponies. He said you wanted me right away, and he came down to help me stake the ponies. He was awful kind," mused Stacy, as if talking to himself.
"Go on," urged Tad. "We've got to think about what's going to become of us."
"That's all. He just led me up here. Said you were inside getting water. Then—then he threw me in. Think I hurt the floor when I hit it, Tad?"
"I guess not quite so bad as that," laughed the lad. "I want you to strike a match while I look around the place."
Stacy did so, taking his time about it. By the dim light thus made, they discovered a little pool of water in a far corner of the chamber, where the trickling stream had found it's way. With their drinking cups, which, with their canteens, the boys always carried, they dipped the pool almost dry, filling their canteens with the cool, refreshing water, after having first fully satisfied their thirst.
"Got anything to eat?" questioned Stacy, his thoughts turning to food.
"Yes, and I'm going to keep it," answered Tad promptly.
"That's mean."
"See here, Chunky. We are prisoners. We don't know when or how we are going to get out. I have a few crusts of bread left and I propose to keep them, because we may find ourselves starving later on. You'll be glad then that I saved the bread. What do you think the hermit intends to do? Did he say anything that gave you any clue?"