“Do, lad? Why, go down and see—or I s’pose I must feel; it’ll be so dark.”
As Josh spoke he rose and got hold of the rope once more.
“No, no!” panted Will. “It is too dangerous, Josh, I can’t let you go.”
“I say, don’t be stoopid, lad. We can’t stop here; you know. Nobody won’t bring us cake and loaves o’ bread and pilchard and tea, will they?”
“But, Josh!”
“Look here, lad, it’s easy enough going down, ain’t it?”
“Yes, yes,” cried Will; “but suppose there is no adit; suppose there is no way out to the shore: how will you get back?”
“There I am again,” growled Josh in an ill-used tone. “I never thought of that. I’ve got a good big head, but it never seems to hold enough to make me think like other men.”
“You could not climb up to the mouth, so how could you climb up again here?”
Josh remained silent for a few minutes, and then he gave a stamp with his foot.