“What about the lanthorn?” cried Bourne.
“I won’t have it, thank you, sir,” said Griggs. “It’ll only be in the way, and I shan’t want it. Looks dark down there, but it’ll be light enough when I get below for all that I’ve got to do.”
“But it looks horribly dark,” whispered Chris, who stood close to Griggs.
“Yes, from here, because you are looking into a dark hole. When I am down there I shall be able to look up here at the sunshine.”
“Light the lanthorn, boys, and tie it to the end of a couple of the ropes. We have plenty, have we not?”
“Oh yes, plenty,” said Wilton, and in a very short time the light was ready in case of an emergency.
“Now then,” said Griggs; “I dare say I shall be able to climb up again after I have done, but if I can’t I suppose two will be strong enough to haul me up.”
“We can have three if necessary,” said Bourne excitedly, for he looked the most nervous of any one present.
“Lower down the barrel, then, my lads. You can do that,” said Griggs. “Just let it touch the water. You’ll know when it does, for there will be a tug to sweep it away; but don’t let it go. Haul it up a few feet then, and be ready to lower it again when I shout.”
“Yes,” was the reply, in a husky whisper, and directly after the barrel was following the course previously taken by the burning faggot, but without catching, its shape allowing it to pass down the steep slope, till the expected jerk was given as it kissed the water, when it was snatched back out of the current’s reach.