"Did the water get in at the opening, Mr. Dick?" asked Tom.
"Yes, Tom, and consequently we are coming to the end of our stock of fresh air," was Dick's reply.
"But why should we not make another opening above the water level?" Tom inquired.
"A thing to be thought about," said Dick; "but we have to remember that if we have five feet of water here inside, there is probably a depth of six or seven outside. In rising here the flood has compressed the air, and made it an obstacle to further progress, but if we allow the air to escape, we may perhaps only be letting the water rise too high for our safety. We are just as if we were in a diving-bell."
"Then what is to be done?" asked the old negro.
"No doubt," replied Dick, "we must proceed very cautiously. An inconsiderate step will jeopardize our lives." Dick Sands was quite correct in comparing the cone to an immersed diving-bell. In that mechanical contrivance, however, the air can always be renewed by means of pumps, so that it can be occupied without inconvenience beyond what is entailed by a somewhat confined atmosphere; but here the interior space had already been reduced by a third part through the encroachment of the water, and there was no method of communicating with the outer air except by opening a new aperture, an operation in which there was manifest danger.
Dick did not entertain the slightest apprehension that the ant-hill would be carried away bodily by the inundation; he knew that it would adhere to its base as firmly as a beaver-hut; what he really dreaded was that the storm would last so long that the flood would rise high above the plain, perhaps submerging the ant-hill entirely, so that ultimately all air would be expelled by the persistent pressure.
The more he pondered the more he felt himself driven to the conviction that the inundation would be wide and deep. It could not be, he felt sure, entirely owing to the downpour from the clouds that the rapid flood was rising; there must have been the sudden overflowing of some stream to cause such a deluge over the low-lying plain. It could not be proved that the ant hill was not already under water, so that escape might be no longer possible, even from its highest point.
With all Dick's courage, it was yet evident that he was very uneasy; he did not know what to do, and asked himself again and again whether patient waiting or decisive action would be his more prudent course.
It was now about three o'clock in the morning. All within the ant-hill were silent and motionless, listening to the incessant turmoil which told that the strife of the elements had not yet ceased.