Where the pick still hung in the rocky mass, a tiny hole showed, darker than the surrounding refuse.

He put forth a hand and clawed at the earth about the tool; it gave way beneath his touch, and there was only vacancy beyond.

Again Harry raised his pick and swung it with force.

Fairchild joined him.

A moment more and they were staring at a hole which led to darkness, and there was joy in Harry's voice as he made a momentary survey.
"It's fairly dry be'ind there," he announced.