Straddling a side of the shaft, Pitch placed the flashlight in his pocket and carefully buttoned the pocket flap over it. “Someone has to be in charge of an expedition like this,” he said with feigned lightness. “And because of my age I’m electing myself.” He looked up at Steve. “There’s really nothing to it, you know. We’ve gone through much worse today.”

Pitch’s hands tightened about the rope as he slid into the shaft and began working his way down, his feet pressed stiffly against the wall. Steve watched him until he could no longer see the top of Pitch’s white hat, and he found himself thinking how silly it was for Pitch to be wearing his hat when he was going a hundred feet or more under the ground. Taking off his own hat, he flung it to one side.

For a few minutes, Steve could hear the sound of Pitch’s feet scraping the wall. The rope was taut. Fingering it, Steve waited until the sounds from Pitch no longer reached his ears and the rope had lost its tautness. He knew then that Pitch had reached the bottom of the shaft. “Pitch! Pitch! Are you all right?”

There were a few seconds of frightening, agonizing silence, then Pitch’s voice came up the shaft so suddenly that the sound burst upon Steve’s ears. “I’m all right. It’s a tunnel, just as we thought, Steve. I’m going to look around.”

“Pitch! You’d better wait,” Steve called. But as the echo died away, there was only deadening silence within the shaft.

Hanging over the side, Steve waited. Every minute seemed an hour. His thin lips were set, his dark eyes stared into the blackness below. If anything happens to Pitch, he thought … If anything happens …

Then Pitch’s voice came up the shaft again. “Come down, Steve,” he called excitedly. “I’ve really found something.”

Steve had one leg inside the shaft when he saw the packs lying on the ground. “Pitch!” he shouted. “What about the packs? Shall I lower them down first? Are we going to stay?”

“Yes, Steve. Yes, you’d better lower everything down. We can’t stop now—not now.”

Anxious to get below, Steve hurriedly tied the second coil of rope about the packs and lowered them into the shaft. “Coming down,” he called to Pitch. “Watch your head.”

When he felt the packs touch the bottom of the shaft, he flung his leg over the side once more. But then he stopped again when he caught sight of Pitch’s pick and shovel. Surely Pitch wouldn’t have any use for them; they’d been enough of a nuisance already. He grabbed hold of the rope to let himself down, then hesitated again. Finally he called down the shaft, “How about the pick and shovel? Do you want them, too?”