"If I had hold of a good steel pike for a bit of an hour, there is nothing like a few planks that would keep us down here."
"Yes, or a couple of axes, or a stick of dynamite, or an electric torch, and so forth," bantered Billy.
While Schneider and Billy were word sparring to keep up their spirits, Henri noticed that the water on the cellar floor had pooled in the sunken spots, indicating that the pressure from without, for the time being, had largely subsided.
"No need for life belts yet," he cried, "the river isn't going to come through."
"And, thanks to that blessed streak of light," Billy pointing to the bull's-eye window, "we're able to see that you are right. So much for a starter."
"We'll beat you yet."
Schneider shook his fist at some invisible foe on the other side of the ceiling.
When, however, the first flush of encouragement at the fading of the flood had dimmed, it seemed a small matter about which to rejoice. The situation appeared as hopeless as before to the imprisoned aviators. With the coming of night the one diamond in the sable setting vanished—no ray of light to slightly relieve a condition now of absolute blindness.
"Oh, for one more glorious chance to meet those dastards in the open," groaned Schneider, who again was overwhelmed with keen regret that he had surrendered at all in the first place. But then he had no idea of such a dungeon as this, and, too, he had feared to provoke instant death for his young comrades.