But he always found it in time, and broke through the farther wall with unusual difficulty, and went on.
The men generally worked in pairs, but old Tom would have no one with him.

He did all the work, picking and hauling the refuse single-handed.
The work should be his alone, his alone the glory of the great and ultimate discovery.
The rocks above him sweated and dripped at times, but that was only to be expected and gave him no anxiety.

Alone with his eager hopes he chipped and picked, and felt no loneliness because of the flame of hope that burned within him.

Above him he could hear the long roll and growl of the wave-tormented boulders--now a dull, heavy fall like the blow of a gigantic mallet, and again a long-drawn crash like shingle grinding down a hillside.

But these things he had heard before and had grown accustomed to.
And so it was fated that, one day, after patiently picking round a great piece of rock till it was loosened from its ages-old bed, he felt it tremble under his hand, and leaning his weight against it, it disappeared into space beyond.
That had happened before when he struck one of the chambers, and he felt no uneasiness.