"That's queer," decided Steve. "But, of course, he did not telephone me from here. He probably is on one of the levels above this. I will wait."
Resuming his whistling, the lad began pacing back and forth on the planking, having stuck his candlestick back on his miner's hat.
The young inspector had been waiting for fully half an hour, but not a sign of the superintendent did he see.
"Well, this is getting rather tiresome," he said, pausing to listen to the rhythmic click of the pumps that his ears could faintly catch. "I think I will amuse myself by sounding the water level."
The lad took down the rope, to one end of which a piece of lead had been attached, spun the weighted end a few times about his head, letting it fly out into the darkness, listening intently as the line ran swiftly through his hands.
A distant splash followed a few seconds later, whereupon the line gave out not quite so rapidly.
"It's down," nodded Steve. He leaned over the edge to pull the line in without drawing it over the edge of the planking, so that he could the better see that mark of the water on the rope.
"Gracious, I should hate to take a swim in that hole," said the Iron Boy, with a laugh.
He stopped suddenly. Steve thought he had heard something behind him.