“But this must be right,” said the midshipman; “it goes up. Here are all the nicks for one’s feet, and the part in the middle is all ground out as if things were dragged up. Go on, old chap; you must be right.”
“So I think,” said Aleck; “but I can’t go on. It seems to me as if the place comes to an end here, and I can get no farther.”
“That’s a nice sort of a story. But you carried the light; have you taken a wrong turning?”
“I didn’t know that there were any turnings.”
“Have another good look, and make sure.”
Aleck peered in all directions by the aid of the lanthorn—a very short task, seeing how they were shut in—and then carefully felt the stones.
“Well?” said the midshipman.
“I’m regularly puzzled,” said Aleck. “Of course, it’s very different coming in the other direction, and by candlelight instead of the darkness.”
“Then you’re regularly at fault.”
“Quite.”