Hamersley had not yet spoken a word to explain what had occurred to cause it. He had suddenly left off chipping the rock, and was at rest, apparently in contemplation of the soft silvery ray that was playing so benignly upon his features.
Was it the pleasure of once more beholding what he lately thought he might never see again—the light of day? Was it this alone that was keeping him still and speechless?
No, something else; as he told his comrade when he rejoined him soon after on the ledge.
“Walt,” he said, “I’ve let daylight in, as you see; but I find it’ll take a long time to cut a passage out. It’s only the weeds I’ve been able to get clear of. The big rock runs over at least five feet, and the stone turns out harder than I thought of.”
These were not cheering words to Walt Wilder.
“But,” continued Hamersley, his speech changing to a more hopeful tone, “I’ve noticed something that may serve better still; perhaps save us all the quarrying. I don’t know whether I’m right; but we shall soon see.”
“What hev ye noticed?” was the question put by Wilder.
“You see there’s still some smoke around us.”
“Yes, Frank, my eyes tell me that plain enuf. I’ve nigh nibbed ’em out o’ thar sockets.”
“Well, as soon as I had scooped out the crack that let in the daylight. I noticed that the smoke rushed out as if blasted through a pair of bellows. That shows there’s a draught coming up. It can only come from some aperture below, acting as a furnace or the funnel of a chimney. We must try to get down to the bottom, and see if there’s such a thing. If there be, who knows but it may be big enough to let us out of our prison, without having to carve our way through the walls, which I feel certain would take us several days. We must try to get down to the bottom.”