"There's our terrible precipice," laughed Jack, stooping over it. "I don't think that would hurt us much. But—holloa! I say, Pierre, this isn't sea-brine; it's fresh-water, running water! It's a stream that's tunnelled its way through the rock; and if we follow it far enough, we'll get out. Hurrah!"
"Hurrah!" echoed Pierre, brightening up. "We sha'n't run short of water, anyhow; and as for food, we may as well have a bite of that loaf before starting again."
The under-ground breakfast was soon finished, and the adventurous lads started once more.
But the pain of Pierre's bruises, which he had manfully concealed hitherto, began to master him at last. His tired limbs began to drag more and more heavily; his feet slipped again and again, and only the strong hand of his comrade saved him from more than one serious fall.
"Better sit down and rest a bit, old fellow," said Jack, kindly; "there's no hurry, for this candle will burn a long while yet. I know you won't own it, but you did get a nasty bump against that rock yonder."
"I fancy you're right there," answered Pierre, sinking wearily upon the ledge. "But we don't need the candle while we're sitting still, you know. Blow it out, and light it again when we start."
Jack did so, and they sat silent in the darkness. All at once Pierre heard his comrade call out,
"I say, don't you hear water falling somewhere?"
"To be sure I do," replied Pierre, after listening a moment. "We must be close to the place where this stream falls down into the tunnel, and now we'll have a chance of getting out at last. Bravo!"
Jack slapped his hands together, with a shout that made the cavern echo.