This was, indeed, a sad calamity with which to wind up a very happy day.
While the men were gone, Ingomar and the boys did their very best to find some entrance on lower ground into the crevasse, but were altogether unsuccessful.
There was nothing to be done, therefore, but to wait.
Perhaps time had never seemed more long to any one than it now did to our heroes.
The sun went down at last in orange and crimson, his beams lighting up the waves with unusual splendour, but no one to-night could appreciate the scenery under such circumstances.
The men returned at length, and brought with them not only ropes, but even lanterns; for although there would be a long summer twilight, night would soon fall, and doubtless it would be dark enough at the bottom of the terrible chasm.
It was Ingomar himself who volunteered to be lowered down, and he would brook no contradiction. Was not Arnold Curtis his friend—a friend to whom somehow he had become peculiarly attached?
So the lantern was lighted, Ingomar placed his limbs in the bight of the rope, and immediately gave the order to lower away gently.
In a few seconds’ time he had sunk to the bottom of the abyss.