By this time the faggot was burning rapidly away, and fiery brands began to drop, to fall with a hiss into the underground torrent, some to become extinct on the moment, while others glided out of sight on the surface, giving a good idea of the extent of the place.
“There,” said Griggs coolly, “it’s all right, you see, sir. We’ll have two ropes, one for the barrels and one for a life-line. I shall take one of the lanthorns down with me. Say, young Chris, I hope we shan’t have made the water taste of burnt wood and turpentine.”
“There’s no fear of that,” said the doctor; “all that water will be far away before you reach the surface. Are you making those knots sure?”
“You may trust me, sir,” said Griggs, coolly enough. “Why, what a fuss we’re making about going twenty feet down at the end of a rope. I believe I could creep down those stones easy enough without. May as well have a line round me, though, I suppose.”
“You’ll not go down without,” said the doctor decisively.
The preparations did not take long, “only long enough to make us more thirsty,” Griggs said; and then of the two lines made ready, one was attached to the barrel carefully and well, the other made fast about the American’s chest.
“I don’t like for him to go down,” said Chris, aside, to his companion.
“I don’t either,” replied Ned.
“It seems so unfair when I’m so much lighter,” continued Chris excitedly, “and as if I ought to go.” Then on the impulse of the moment, “Here, father, I’ll go down instead.”
“Shame!” cried Griggs merrily. “Do you want to rob a poor fellow of having the first drink? No, thank you; this is my job, and I won’t give it up to any one. Now then, we’re all ready, I think.”