Still they kept on, but now Larry's heart began to fail him. They had progressed so far, had made so many turns, that to get back would probably be impossible. The caves were so vast one might wander about in them forever--if one's food did not give out. Larry shivered again and clutched the precious kettle of stew tighter than ever. He was once more hungry, but resolved to wait until the pangs of hunger increased before reducing the stock of food. The passageway was now level for a considerable distance, with here and there a rock to be climbed over or a crack to cross. Both had just made a leap over an opening several feet wide when Leroy set up a shout. "What is it?" asked Larry, eagerly. "Put the torch behind ye, lad, an' look ahead. Perhaps my eyes deceive me," answered the old sailor. Larry did as requested, and gave a searching look up the passageway. No, there was no mistaking it--there was a faint glimmer of light coming from what appeared to be a bend. He, too, gave a shout, and both set off on a run. As they sped onward the light became brighter and brighter, until the torch was hardly needed. They were running side by side, each trying to gain the outer air first. "Look out!" suddenly yelled Leroy, and caught Larry by the arm. The old sailor could hardly stop, and had to throw himself flat, dragging the boy down on top of him. A few feet beyond was an opening twelve to fifteen feet wide, running from side to side of the passageway. The walls of the opening were perpendicular, and the hole was so deep that when a stone was dropped into it they could scarcely hear the thing strike bottom. "Here's a how-d'ye-do!" cried Leroy, gazing into the pit. "We can't jump across that, nohow!" "A real good jumper might," answered Larry. "But I shouldn't want to try it. The other side seems to slope down toward the hole. What's to be done?" Ah, that was the question. It looked as if their advance in that direction was cut off completely. CHAPTER XXVI BOXER THE SCOUT Much chagrined, man and boy stood on the brink of the chasm before them and gazed at the other side. It was sloping, as Larry had said, and wet, which was worse. A jump, even for a trained athlete, would have been perilous in the extreme. "Looks like we were stumped," remarked Leroy, laconically. "And just as we were so near to yonder opening!" cried Larry, vexed beyond endurance. "If we only had a plank, or something." He looked around, but nothing was at hand but the bare stone walls, with here and there a patch of dirt and a loose stone. He walked to one end of the hole. "A fellow might climb along yonder shelf if he were a cat," he said dismally. "But I don't believe a human being could do it." "No, and don't you go for to try it," put in the old sailor. "If you do, you'll break your neck, sure as guns is guns." "Well, we've got to do something, Leroy."