Frank was hopeful, even sanguine, that the silver whale was at last entrapped.
Of course there was the possibility that it had escaped by some other outlet. In this case it was no doubt by this time far away.
But Frank pressed forward as far as the size of the Dolphin would admit.
Then the sides of the submarine boat collided with the walls of stone. It could go no further.
Here was a predicament. The voyagers exchanged puzzled glances. What was to be done?
Frank was thoughtful. Stanhope paced up and down nervously. Barney sputtered and Pomp fumed.
“Begorra! I niver see the bate av it!” cried the Celt; “that whale is loike the divil’s own. He do be squeezing out av the smallest holes I iver see!”
“Golly, but I done fink he am got away now fo’ suah!” rejoined Pomp. “It am a drefful shame we didn’t shoot it wif dat torpedo!”
“Bejabers, it’s a hoodoo yez are, naygur!” declared Barney, unable to restrain giving Pomp a jab.
The darky shook his woolly head.