"Foot it as fast as you can," exclaimed Atherton. "It may be all right, but I fancy the water is pouring into the hollow we noticed just this side of the place we found the silver bowl."
The three lads broke into a run, guided by the flickering light of the lantern. Louder and louder grew the sound of the inrush of water.
"Steady," gasped Atherton, as his feet came in contact with the water. "Wade through it."
He was hoping against hope. His practical eye had already noted that the water extended far beyond the limits of the little puddle they had encountered in the lowest level of the dip. This meant that there might be five feet or more of water in the tunnel, or there might be sufficient space between the surface and the top of the vaulting to enable the lads to proceed.
"What's happened, I wonder?" asked Green, who, like the other, was knee-deep in water.
"Don't worry: keep on," enjoined the Leader. "There's no current, luckily, but let's hang on to one another in case there's a pitfall. Keep the spare pieces of candle dry, Mayne, whatever you do. I've put the matches in my hat."
Waist deep now. The rate of progress was visibly retarded by the resistance of the water. Peering ahead, Atherton could see that at less than twenty yards from where he stood the roof of the tunnel met and dipped below the surface of the newly formed lake.
The Scouts were trapped.
"No go, lads," announced Atherton, in a cheerful tone. "We must get back to the higher level. It must be raining pretty heavily, and the water soaks through."
"A jolly good soak, I should say," added Green. "What do you propose doing now, Atherton?"