Here the fresh additions to the stores of the place were neatly deposited, and the sailors sat down, while Gil busied himself in examining a bale or two that seemed to have been gnawed by rats.
“I wonder where the skipper shoved that spying fellow Churr—him as we searched for?” said one of the men in a low voice to his nearest comrade.
“Further in, somewhere,” was the reply; “I thought I could smell him just now.”
“That be rats,” said the other; “I know them well enough. But does the place go in far?”
“I believe you, my lad. I once went in ever so far with old Wat and the skipper carrying lanterns.”
“Did you?” said the other, eagerly; “and what be it like?”
“Like this here. All the same—hole after hole, with rough stone pillars to support it all, just as it must have been dug out.”
“Bah! chap, this was never cut out,” said the other. “It came natural like.”
“Never cut out? Come natural like? Look here, my lad,” said the sailor, rising and pointing to marks upon the wall that seemed to have been made with some rough tool.
“Yes, but anybody might have done that,” said the younger man.