A STUMBLE IN THE DARK Gloomy as the hole was, there was no help for it.

I could perceive nothing below, not even my hand when held within a foot of my eyes; nor had I the slightest previous knowledge of the place to guide me, even had not the fire ruins above effectually blocked every passage-way with fallen debris.

Listening however intently, my ears could distinguish only the faint lapping of the river as it crept about the log piling on which the house had been built; but beyond this dim guidance, I had to feel my way forward with extended hands and groping feet.

Swinging to my back the rifle that De Croix had brought, and casting an inquiring glance backward at the little group huddled upon the bank, almost invisible even at that short distance, I grasped the piling nearest me and slid down into the unknown darkness.
My feet found solid earth, although as I reached out toward the left my moccasin came in contact with water, which told me at once that only a narrow path divided the steep bank of the excavation from the encroaching river.

The floor above was originally low, so that I could easily touch the heavy supporting beams; and I had felt my way scarcely a yard before coming in contact with a serious obstruction, where the weakened floor had sagged so as almost to close the narrow passage.
This caused me to wade farther out into the water, testing each step carefully as I followed the sharp curving of the shore-line.