“I am not so sure of that,” she said. “We may yet invent a telescope which shall curve its reflected rays over the rotundity of the earth and above the highest icebergs, so that you and I may sit here and look at the waters of the pole gently splashing around the great buoy.” “And charge a dollar apiece to all other people who would like to look at the pole, and so we might make much money,” said he. “But I must really go and do something; I shall go crazy if I sit here idle.” Margaret knew that the loss of the shell was the greatest blow that Roland had ever yet received. His ambitions as a scientific inventor were varied, but she was well aware that for some years he had considered it of great importance to do something which would bring him in money enough to go on with his investigations and labors without depending entirely upon her for the necessary capital. If he could have tunnelled a mountain with this shell, or if he had but partially succeeded in so doing, money would have come to him. He would have made his first pecuniary success of any importance. “What are you going to do, Roland?” said she, as he rose to leave the room. “I am going to find the depth of the hole that shell has made. It ought to be filled up, and I must calculate how many loads of earth and stones it will take to do it.” That afternoon he came to Mrs. Raleigh's house. “Margaret,” he exclaimed, “I have lowered a lead into that hole with all the line attached which we have got on the place, and we can touch no bottom. I have telegraphed for a lot of sounding-wire, and I must wait until it shall arrive before I do anything more.” “You must be very, very careful, Roland, when you are doing that work,” said Margaret. “Suppose you should fall in!” “I have provided against that,” said he. “I have laid a floor over the hole with only a small opening in it, so there is no danger. And another curious thing I must tell you-our line is not wet: we have struck no water!” When Margaret visited the Works the next day she found Roland Clewe and a number of workmen surrounding the flooring which had been laid over the hole. They were sounding with a windlass which carried an immense reel of wire. The wire was extremely thin, but the weight of that portion of it which had already been unwound was so great that four men were at the handles of the windlass. Roland came to meet Margaret as she entered. “The lead has gone down six miles,” he said, in a low voice, “and we have not touched the bottom yet.” “Impossible!” she cried. “Roland, it cannot be! The wire must be coiling itself up somewhere. It is incredible! The lead cannot have gone down so far!” “Leads have gone down as far as that before this,” said he. “Soundings of more than six miles have been obtained at sea.” She went with him and stood near the windlass. For an hour she remained by his side, and still the reel turned steadily and the wire descended into the hole.