To their great joy, now, on looking back they found that they could not see the daylight shining in from the mouth upon the water, and as, in consequence, any one gazing into the cave was not likely to see the dim rays of their lanthorn, the boys paused knee-deep, glad to find that they need go no farther along the narrow channel—one formed, no doubt, by the gradual washing away of some vein of soft felspar or steatite.
“Pretty safe now,” whispered Vince.
Plash!
“Ugh!” ejaculated Mike. “What’s that?”
“Seal or some big fish,” said Vince: “something we’ve driven in before us.”
“I don’t want to be a coward, Cinder,” whispered Mike; “but if it’s a great conger, I don’t know what I should do.”
“Hit at it,” replied Vince. “I should, even if I felt in a regular squirm. But we needn’t mind. The things we’ve driven up before us are sure to be in a horrible flurry, and all they’ll think about will be of trying to get away.”
“Think so?”
“Why, of course. You don’t suppose there are any of the things that old Joe talked about, do you?”
“No, of course that’s nonsense; but the congers may be very big and fierce, and isn’t this the sort of place they would run up?”