Dale responded by gradually making the lanthorn describe a considerable arc.
“No—no! No—no!” cried Saxe, as he swept the ledge with his eyes from end to end.
Dale was silent for a time. Then he said huskily—
“Can you hold out while I lower the lanthorn as far as the string will go?”
“Yes.”
The light descended like a star going down into another firmament of as deep and dark a blue as that above; and as Saxe watched he saw it reflected from the dark walls. Then lower, lower, and down and down, till suddenly it stopped.
“That is all the string—a hundred yards. Can you see him now!”
“No!” said Saxe hoarsely.
“You can see nothing!”
“Only the lamp swinging and the ice shining.”