Working with such bits of sharp-edged shale as they could find, the boys fell to their task without delay. Harry, observing their industry from a distance, smiled happily at the thought that the boys had at least found a way out which was worth considering.
“If we just had a couple of shovels like those muckers use over on the East river,” Jack said, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the sleeve of his jacket, “we could cut through this obstruction in about five minutes. This is a fierce game!”
“I’m getting so I like these strenuous moments,” Frank declared, putting both hands to his aching back. “The fact of the matter is,” he went on, “that I’d rather be at work draining the Devil’s Punch Bowl than playing the part of a little sissy cigar-store boy in New York.”
“I’m glad you like it!” Jack replied, sourly.
It was almost dark when at last the trench was completed. It was with great satisfaction that the boys saw the water trickle into the new channel and find its way to the crevice. As the current grew stronger, it washed the banks away, and in a very short time a roaring torrent was rushing into the old outlet.
“That’s the idea!” Frank exclaimed. “There’s a head of water here that ought to cut that channel six feet deep,” he went on. “And that will give us a dry tunnel to walk out of.”
“To walk into,” corrected Jack. “We don’t know whether we’ll ever walk out of it or not.”
“Well, you needn’t tell that to Harry!” exclaimed Frank reproachfully. “We’ve got to make him believe that it’s a sure thing we can get him out of this rotten old excavation in the hills.”
“And we’re going to do it, too!” declared Jack. “I don’t know just how we’re going to do it, but we’re going to do it! The channel will soon be dry enough for us to investigate, and somewhere is better than nowhere—by which I mean this hole in the rocks.”
Hearing the rushing water, Harry arose to a sitting position and looked over toward his chums with a smile on his pale face.