"They will last about twelve hours," said Dick. "There is no wind here to make them gutter."
"But they won't make us a bridge," groaned Sam.
"Listen to me," said Dick.
Speaking calmly, he told Sam the conclusions to which he had come.
"Now, Sam, you see what we have to do. It was about nine o'clock when we came down the well. It will be twelve hours or more before they attempt the run. We have twelve hours before us; we must get across the shaft and dish them—I don't know how, but we must do it."
"How can we? Rake it all, we shall have no dinner!"
"Don't talk like that," said Dick sternly. "We want all our wits and determination. 'Tis mere folly to think about dinner, or groan and moan because we are hungry. I tell you, young Sam, you must do your best to help, and be cheerful, or you and I will split."
"Well, I'll keep my solemn thoughts to myself and spake out nothing but merry ones, if I can think 'em."
Dick considered for a few moments; then he took from his pocket a knife and a long piece of string, knotted the latter about the haft, and stuck the blade into a lighted candle. This he lowered into the chasm, lying at full length to make the most of the string. But the flame revealed no bottom to the shaft. Even had they seen a floor it seemed impossible to get there, or, getting there, to be in any way profited. At one time, no doubt, there had been a means of ascending and descending the shaft; but the very existence of the bridge showed that the machinery had long since disappeared, and the passage-way by which they had made their entrance was the only exit.
"We had better blow out the candle," said Dick. "We don't know how long we may be here, and you may be glad to eat it before we get out of this."