“We’re almost at the bottom,” said Bart.
“That depends on what you mean by the bottom,” said Arthur.
“Well, I mean, we’re almost as far down as we were before.”
“But I wonder whether we shall strike that metallic substance that we struck before,” said Arthur.
“I’ll soon see,” said Bruce.
Saying this, he took the pickaxe, and giving it a swing, brought it down into the centre of the hole.
It penetrated a short distance, and then stopped short, with a low, dull sound, as though it had struck something hard.
That sound roused the boys once more, and stimulated them to fresh exertions. They again plunged their spades into the earth. All their first energy was now restored. They forgot their fatigue. Something was there, they knew. What it was they could not tell; but they knew that it must be the same thing that had excited them once before, and from which they had been driven by the sudden bray of that absurd donkey. Now, all that nonsense had been explained; and they knew that this last vestige of the mystery of that midnight hour lay beneath them, and would soon be exhumed and brought to the light of day.
Lower and lower they went.
And now their shovels struck it at every stroke. It seemed metallic. The dull ringing sound given forth could not come from wood, or brick, or stone. It must be metal!