"Will you let me have a try?"
"My!—rather. Anything to get the blame thing out."
Neville picked up the tomahawk that was lying near at hand, and began striking the edges of the hole where Sandy had been prising.
"That's the stitch!" cried Tom. "Well done, Mr. Neville!"
The limestone readily yielded to Neville's strokes, and the crevice was soon wide enough to take in the thick end of the stout gum sapling.
Sandy and Neville, taking a pull at the end, levered the stone high enough for Joe, who had the other bar ready to insert between the raised end and the floor stone. With this additional lever power the "stopper" was canted on one side, high enough to put the stone chocks in. Another application of the bars, with two boys hanging on each and pulling simultaneously, brought the "stopper out of the bottle," and toppled it over with a thud that shook the floor; bringing down a stalactite with a crash, fortunately without harm to the exploring party.
Before venturing down, Joe, in whose mind an idea had been fermenting while the stone-raising business was being carried on, critically surveyed the stone "stopper."
"Look here!" remarked he, "these are the marks of an iron crowbar. Whoever removed this had the proper tools for it. Whatcher make of that? That upsets the town party theory, don't it?"
"It certainly makes the puzzle harder," said Neville.
"Think so? Makes it easier to me," quoth Sandy.