At the bottom of the dale, almost exactly under and parallel to this upper cave, is a larger one, which we called the Lower Cales Dale Cavern. It is entirely concealed by bushes and nettles, and we had to remove a mass of blocks and detritus before we laid bare the two entrances. Even then, room could not be made for the broad-shouldered member of the party to get in. At the end of 15 feet of very tight wriggling there was more head room. We were in a straight tunnel, arched as evenly as a culvert, the floor covered with the gravelly deposits of a stream. Evidently it is a channel still used frequently by the Cales Dale Water. It ran due west for 300 feet, with room in most places for us to crawl on hands and knees: then it bent one point to the north. Here the stream had thrown up a low dam, behind which it had bored a series of holes on the south side, through which most of it gets away. Soon a wall of rock, shaped like the steps of a weir, confronted us, at the top of which we found ourselves in a wide, irregular chamber, the height of whose roof varied from 6 feet to 18 feet. We called it the Pot Hole Cavern, because of the number of water-worn cavities in the roof. The biggest of these cavities appearing to give entrance to an upper gallery, I climbed into it with the aid of a comrade's shoulder. It contained a pretty grotto, lined with incrustations, but led to nothing. Deep horizontal fissures yawned on every side of the Pot Hole Chamber, and vertical joints split the interposing strata. All the exits, however, came to an end speedily except two, one extending a point east of south, the other a point east of north. I explored the northern branch before my friends arrived. It had several short ramifications, in some of which there were trails of rabbits, and other evidences of a communication with the surface, such as pieces of sodden wood and deposits of soil; but it gave ingress for barely 50 feet. The other branch seemed more important, and as we were tired out and hungry, we left it until we had returned to the dale for rest and lunch, a waste of time, unfortunately, for it ran only for 100 feet farther. [Illustration: RICKLOW CAVE IN FLOOD. _Photo by G. D. Williams._]