“What’s the matter?” asked Mr. Newton.
“We’ve come to some sort of a wall,” another reporter replied. “It seems they have to cut through this before we can go any further. Gee! But I wish I had time to send something about this to my paper. It will be a dandy story.”
“I guess there aren’t any telephones under the Hudson,” said Mr. Newton, nudging Larry in the ribs.
“No, but there may be some day. Well, I suppose I’ll have to make a story for to-morrow, but the morning papers will have the best of it.”
Mr. Newton did not reply, and Larry thought that perhaps the other reporter might be mistaken. He began to see what a fine thing it would be to beat the other papers. The whole party had now halted. There was a sort of inclined platform of boards built from the floor close to the roof of the tunnel.
Up this the members of the party walked until they came to a level place where they stood together. Overhead was the iron-ribbed lining of the big tube. It had only recently been put in place and, as it was not water tight, moisture from the river came through quite freely.
Big drops splashed down almost like rain, and it was salt rain at that.
“I guess I’ll have to get a new suit out of the office, for mine’s spoiled,” said one of the newspaper men.
“And my hat’s gone to grass,” remarked another, as he contemplated his straw headgear.
“You want to be ready to slip back soon now,” whispered Mr. Newton to Larry. “They’re going to try the hydraulic ram on the brick wall. As soon as they start it I’ll let you know. Then you can slip down as quietly as possible, make your way back through the tunnel, go up to the surface, and telephone to Mr. Emberg. He has the story almost written, for he knows something about the tunnel. All he wants to know are a few particulars which you can give him.”