“Of course,” cried Scarlett, laughing. “I never thought of that.”
“Now, then, which way shall we go? Straight to the mouth where the water ran, or to the hole in the wood?”
“To the hole;” and, after taking the trouble to make quite a circuit, so as to be sure of avoiding observation, they entered the little wood, made their way to the prostrate oak, and found that the bottom of the hole was dry.
“There!” cried Scarlett, “I was right.”
They dropped down, and found that by the time they had reached the end of the portion illumined by the light which came down the hole, faint rays were there to meet them from the other end, the light striking in strongly from the bottom of the walled-up entrance, and showing that the floor which they had to follow was damp, but every drop of water had drained away.
On reaching the end, it was quite light; and a little examination proved that other stones at the bottom were sufficiently loose to be easily pushed out, Fred sending out a couple, which went down into deep water at once.
“I wouldn’t have done that,” said Scarlett. “It’s like opening a way for any one right into our house.”
“But any one will not know the way,” replied Fred, as he went down on hands and knees, and thrust out his head and shoulders. “Easy enough to get out now,” he said, as he thrust the bushes aside, “only we should want the boat. Water’s quite deep here. Stop a moment!” he cried excitedly, as he twisted himself round and looked up before drawing his head back. “Why, Scar, we could climb up or down there as easily as could be.”
“Could we?”
Scarlett crept partly out in turn, and looked up for a minute or two.