He took some papers from his pocket, twisted them into a loose mass, and wound about them the end of a long vine tendril. Then he kindled them from his tinder-box, and let the flaming mass down quickly into the well. It burned until it was consumed.
"There is air enough. Go down, Pepito."
He steadied the ladder as the boy descended step by step. Jack counted twelve rungs, then ordered the boy to stop.
"Do you see anything, Pepito?"
A few moments passed. The gipsy's eyes were adjusting themselves to the gloom.
"A hole, Señor, a big hole in the wall."
"Can you get into it?"
"No, Señor, it is on the other side, too far away."
Bidding the boy ascend, Jack shifted the ladder across the bar. Pepito went down again, and soon Jack heard his muffled voice exclaim that he was in the hole.
"Do you find anything there? Search thoroughly."