“What is it—a well?”
“I don’t know. We could soon tell, if we had a stick. Here! what are those at the side?”
They went back to the heap of old iron, and to their surprise found that it was a collection of old arms and armour, rusted almost beyond recognition.
From this heap they dragged a long sword, one which must have been heavy, but which was now little better than a thin collection of scales.
“This will do,” said Fred, returning to the farther doorway, and descending till he was on the lowest step, where, reaching out, he tried to sound the depth.
This proved an easy task, for, as near as they could make out, the water was about a yard deep, and the steps went to the bottom, where all was level ground.
They stretched out the lights, and gazed before them to where the retreating passage grew lower and lower, till the top of the arch seemed to have dipped down and touched the black water; and having satisfied themselves that no farther progress could be made, Fred turned and said, as he rubbed one ear—
“Now, if we were fishes or water-rats, we might find out some more. But, I say, Scar, we’ve taken a deal of trouble to find out very little.”
“I think we’ve found out a great deal,” replied Scarlett. “This is no well. It’s the edge of the lake, and this—”
“Nonsense!”