Scarlett unhooked the chain, gave the boat a good thrust, seized the oars, and in ten minutes more they were coasting along as near to the bank as the overhanging trees and projecting bushes would allow.
For quite half an hour they searched to and fro, but without result. There were plenty of likely looking places overgrown with ivy, and sheltered by the willows, alders, and birches, but not one showed a sign of having been built up with rough blocks of stone, or presented a hole such as they had seen from the inside.
“We shall never find it like this,” said Fred, at last.
“How are we to find it, then? And we must go soon, as some one will see us, and wonder what we are doing.”
“Oh no; they’ll only think we are fishing,” said Fred. “I’ll tell you how to find it.”
“How?”
“We must cut a long willow, and strip it all but the leaves on the end.”
“What for?”
“Then one of us must go down the opening yonder, wade along the passage, poke the stick out through the hole, and shout.”
“Yes; that would do it nicely,” said Scarlett. “But who’s to do it?”