"Can't have gone far, then," panted John. "Sure it was him?"
"Had him by the foot, but he got loose. Here we are," as he poked about, and came at last on the hole below the slab. "Come on, John ... can't be far away.... Big hole"—as he kicked about down below—"no bottom, far as I can see."
"Best wait for daylight, to see where we're getting."
"Oui gia! Man doux, it's not me's going down here till I know what's below."
So they sat and kicked their heels and waited for the day, certain in their own minds that their quarry was run to earth and as good as caught.
Gard had swept down both his coat and his cloth full of eggs in his sudden entrance. He stood at the bottom of the well to see if they would follow, while Peter's long legs kicked about for foothold. He heard them decide to wait for daylight, and then he noiselessly picked up his coat and his soppy bundle of broken eggs, pushed them into the tunnel, and crawled in after them.
He was trapped, indeed, but he doubted very much if any fisherman on Sark would venture down that tunnel. They were brawny men, used to leg and elbow room, and, as a rule, heartily detested anything in the shape of underground adventure. They might, of course, get over some miners to explore for them. Or they might content themselves with sitting down on top of his hole until he was starved out. In any case, his rope was nearly run; but yet he was not disposed to shorten it by so much as an inch.
As he wormed his way along the tunnel, the recollection of those other openings off the dead man's cave came back to him. He would try them. He pushed on with a spurt of hope.
The tunnel was not nearly so long now that he knew where he was going; in fact, now that nothing but it stood between him and capture, it seemed woefully inadequate.
When his head and elbows no longer grazed rock he dropped his coat and crawled into the chamber. He felt his way round to the dried packages, and cautiously emptied half-a-dozen and prepared them for his use.