"You're close to it." "Yes," cried Vince excitedly; "we are close to it;" and he stopped and held up the lanthorn, so that his hand struck against the roof.

"Look there!" Mike pressed close, and looked at the object which had taken his companion's attention; but for a few moments he realised nothing save that the passage had grown more contracted, and that the roof seemed to be formed by two huge pieces of glistening granite leaning together.
Then he looked down and saw that the floor, which was smoother than ever, ran down suddenly, while a faint, damp, salt odour of sea-weed struck upon his nostrils as a puff of air was suddenly wafted up.
"Mind, mind!" he shouted.

"Ah!" For the lanthorn was once more darkened, but not by the candle being extinct.

On the contrary, it was burning brightly still, but hidden by Vince drawing his jersey suddenly over the sides.
"It's all right," cried Vince, for there before him was the shape of the end of the passage marked out by a pale, dawn-like light.

"Can't you see?
We've been fancying we've come down such a tremendous depth, and all the time we were right: the hole has led us to the shore." But Vince was not quite right, for, upon his drawing the lanthorn out-- and none too soon, an odour of singed worsted becoming perceptible--they found that the sudden sharp slope of the granite flooring went down some twenty feet, and upon lowering the light by means of the rope the lanthorn came to rest in soft sand.
"It isn't very light down there," said Vince, whose feelings of nervousness were being rapidly displaced by an intense desire to see more; "but light does come in, and there's the waves running in and out round here.