"I wonder how deep it is," said Coventry minor, peering into the pit that yawned at his feet. "There are no steps as far as I can make out."
"I can see a niche on your side, Coventry," announced Fraser. "It looks deep enough to get a good foothold."
"Be careful, young Coventry," cautioned Simpson, as the lad sat down at the edge of the hole, turned face downwards and groped for the niche.
"I'm used to it," replied Coventry minor, confidently. "Here's another one. It's quite easy."
Phillips and the remaining "Wolves" watched the Scout make his way farther and farther down the shaft, till he had descended quite a dozen of the rough footholds cut into the rock.
"Haven't you got to the bottom yet, Coventry?" Simpson called out, with a tinge of anxiety in his voice. "You had better come back, and we'll go to the camp and get some rope and candles."
The Scout instantly began to retrace his footsteps. Possibly owing to the fact that he had already performed the harder task of descending, he momentarily allowed his sense of caution to desert him. The fingers of both hands simultaneously slipped from a lichen-covered niche. He struggled desperately to recover his hold, and fell.
The lads, gathered round the mouth of the pit, heard a stifled cry followed by a dull thud, then all was silent.
"Off belts, lads," ordered Leader Simpson.
In a few seconds a leathern rope, twenty feet in length, was made up. Simpson fastened one end round a staff which was held by four of the Scouts, and threw the free end down the pit; then, without hesitation, he grasped the improvised life-line and swung himself lightly over the edge.