"It'll come away as soon as you pull it."

Mike gave the rope a tug, then a sharp jerk, and another, before, raising his hands and grasping it as high as he could, he took a run, and then, raising his legs, let himself swing to and fro.

"Bear anything," he cried. "There, you'd better go first."

"You fastened it," said Vince, "so you've got first go."

"No, it was your idea. Up with you! but you've scared the pigeons away."

Vince seized the rope as high as he could reach, twisted it about his leg, pressing the strong strands against his calf with the edge of his shoe-sole, and then began to climb slowly, drawing himself up by the muscular strength of his arms, while the rope began to revolve with him slowly.

"Meat's burning," cried Mike, grinning. "Wants basting;" and he picked up handsful of sand to scatter over the climber's back.

But Vince was too busy to heed his interruption, and by trying hard he soon drew himself right into the narrow crack, and the next minute only his boots were visible, and they were drawn out of sight directly after.

"Well?" cried Mike; "what have you found?"

"Grapnel," panted Vince; for climbing a single thin rope is hard work.

"Yes, but what else?"

"Big crack, which goes right in. Light the lanthorn and fasten, it to the end of the rope."

This was soon done and the light drawn up.

"I say, play fair!" cried Mike, as the lanthorn disappeared; "don't go and do all the fun yourself."

For answer Vince threw him down the rope, which he had freed from the lanthorn.

"Come up," he said shortly; and Mike, who began to be deeply interested, his curiosity now being excited, seized the rope and began in turn to climb.

He was as active as his companion, and as much accustomed to rope work, the pair having often let themselves down portions of the cliff and climbed again in their search for eggs; so that in another minute he too was in the crack, dimly lit by the lanthorn, which Vince had set low down, where the fracture in the rock began to close in towards where it was again solid.

"Don't seem much of a place," said Mike, rising upright, but having to keep himself in that position by resting a foot on either side of the rift. "Goes in, though."

"Yes," said Vince, "and I was right, for the pigeons must have flown through."

"No," said Mike, looking about: "nests somewhere on one of the ledges."

"Are no ledges here," said Vince: "the top goes up to a point. Shall we go on?"

"Of course," said Mike; and, taking up the lanthorn, Vince began to shuffle himself along the narrow, awkward place, till, at the end of a dozen yards, in darkness which grew thicker as he went, the great crack turned suddenly right off to the right, and again directly after to the left.

"Why, it looks just the same shape as a flash of lightning," cried Mike.

"Does it get any bigger?"

"Doesn't seem to," was the reply; "but there's plenty of room to walk along."

"Walk? I don't call this walking? I'm going along like a lame duck striddling a gutter. I say, think there's ever been water along here?"

"Sure there hasn't," said Vince, holding the light low down. "Why, you can see. The rock isn't worn a bit, but looks as sharp as if it had only lately been split."

"But what could split it? The lightning?"

"No: father says these rocks crack from the water washing the stuff away from beneath them, and then the tremendous weight does the rest. But I don't know. I say, though, I shouldn't wonder if this goes on into another cave. Look here."

Mike pressed forward, and found, as his companion held up the light, that the fault in the rock shot off sharply now to the left, and sloped up at an angle of some forty-five degrees.

"Looks awkward," said Mike. "Are we going up there?"

"Of course. Why not? We can climb it."

"Oh yes, I can get up there; but it isn't very good for the boots."

Good or bad, Vince did not hesitate, but, lanthorn in hand, commenced the ascent by climbing right in the narrow part of the rift, where each foot became wedged between the sides of the opening, and had to be dragged out again as the next foot was brought over and placed in front.

"Awkward travelling," said Vince; "but you can't slip."

"Begin to feel as if I can," replied Mike--"right out of my shoes. I say, it is awkward."

The distance they had to traverse here, however, was but short, and the next angle showed that the fault was at a much easier slope, while the opening was wider, so that they got along more pleasantly. But at the end of another twenty yards the walls began to close in, and the place looked so uninviting that Mike stopped. "Hadn't we better go back?" he said. "What for?" replied Vince. "Let's see the end of it. We can't make any mistake in going back. There's no roof to fall, and no pits or holes to drop into."

"But it may go on for ever so long; and, I say, I don't believe a pigeon ever flew through here."

"Well, I don't know," said Vince. "It seemed to me as if they did, and--Hurrah, Ladle! I can see light."

"Light? So there is. Look! it must come from round the next corner.

That's reflection we can see."

And so it proved: for upon pa.s.sing the next sharp angle Vince found himself facing the sea, which was visible through a great arch, far larger and more rugged than that in their own cavern mouth. Going on a little farther, he found himself at the end of the singular zigzag pa.s.sage, which was an opening in the roof of another and larger cavern, and into which they looked down as from a window.

It was lighter and loftier than their own, and, like it, beautifully carpeted with sand; but, to the amazement of the lads, instead of this being smooth and wind-swept, as that of their own place when they first discovered it, the floor was covered with footmarks leading from the mouth inward to where the great cave grew dim and obscure. There were sails, too, and ropes. Several small yards and spars lay together by the side of the wall, and farther in were sails and three or four oars.

But what most took their attention was the fact that, dimly outlined in the higher part of the cave there were little stacks, which looked as if they were built up of packages or bales, side by side with which, carefully stacked in the sand, were dozens upon dozens of small kegs.

As their eyes grew more familiar with the gloom at the upper end, they realised that there were a great number of these bales and kegs, the former being of three kinds, varying a good deal in shape and size.

They neither of them spoke, not daring even to whisper, for the feeling was strong upon them that the next thing they would see must be the figure of some fierce-looking smuggler in big boots, belted, carrying cutla.s.s and pistols, and crowned with a scarlet cap.

Then they started back in alarm, for there was the sharp whirring of wings, and half a dozen pigeons darted out of the cavern, seeming to come from far back beyond the stacks of kegs and bales, and rushing out into the bright light beneath the arch.

It was nothing to mind; but their nerves were on the strain, and they breathed more freely as soon as the birds were gone. It seemed to signify that no human beings were in the higher part of the cavern, and the solemn silence of the place encouraged them at last to speak, but only in whispers.

"Wish we'd brought the rope," said Vince; "we might have got down."

"Ugh! It wouldn't be safe. They might come and catch us."

"Who might?"