Mike’s heart seemed to stand still as he craned forward, gazing at the slight opening in the brambles which his companion had made; and as he listened intently he tried hard to speak, but his mouth felt dry, and not a word would come.
It was horrible. They had both imagined that they were about to leap over a hollow between some masses of stone, probably two, perhaps three feet deep; but the bushes and brambles which had rooted in the sides had effectually masked what was evidently a deep chasm, penetrating to some unknown distance in the bowels of the earth.
What to do? Run for help, or try to get down?
Before Mike could decide, in his fear and excitement, which, he drew his breath heavily, with a gasp of relief, for a voice sounding hollow and strange came up through the bushes and ferns.
“Mike!”
“Yes. Hullo, are you hurt?”
“Bit scratched,” came up.
“How far are you down? Tell me what to do. Shall I go for a rope?”
“Steady!” came up: “don’t ask so much at once. Not down very far. I can see the light, and it’s all of a slope here, but awful lower down. Did you hear the stones go with a rush?”
“Yes, yes; but Vince, old chap, tell me how I am to help you.”