Mac-Nab sounded again, nothing yet, his pick still sunk in the shifting earth, and flinging it from him, he buried his face in his hands and muttered-
"Poor things, poor things!" He then climbed to the opening of the shaft by means of the wood-work.
The Lieutenant and the Sergeant were together in greater anxiety than ever, and taking them aside, the carpenter told them of his dreadful disappointment.
"Then," observed Hobson, "the house must have been crushed by the avalanche, and the poor people in it"--
"No!" cried the head-carpenter with earnest conviction, "no, it cannot have been crushed, it must have resisted, strengthened as it was. It cannot-it cannot have been crushed!"
"Well, then, what has happened?" said the Lieutenant in a broken voice, his eyes filling with tears.
"Simply this," replied Mac-Nab, "the house itself has remained intact, but the ground on which it was built must have sunk. The house has gone through the crust of ice which forms the foundation of the island. It has not been crushed, but engulfed, and the poor creatures in it"--
"Are drowned!" cried Long.
"Yes, Sergeant, drowned without a moment's notice-drowned like passengers on a foundered vessel!"
For some minutes the three men remained silent. Mac-Nab's idea was probably correct. Nothing was more likely than that the ice forming the foundation of the island had given way under such enormous pressure. The vertical props which supported the beams of the ceiling, and rested on those of the floor, had evidently aided the catastrophe by their weight, and the whole house had been engulfed.