At this point he
brought his iron bar into play.
It was not long before he discovered that his work was cut out for
him. The cement was like flint and his blunt makeshift implement
was almost useless against it. Ankle-deep in the muddy water, he
patiently pecked and pounded and chipped, endeavoring to enlarge
the crevice so as to use his bar as a lever. The sweat streamed
from him and he became dismayed at his own weakness. He was forced
to rest frequently.
Rosa hung over the orifice above, encouraging him, inquiring
eagerly as to his progress. During his frequent breathing-spells
he could discern her white face dimly illumined by the candle-
light from below.
After he had worked for an hour or two, he made a report: "It
begins to look as if there really was a bulkhead or a door in
there."
The girl clapped her hands and laughed with delight. "Do hurry,
dear; I'm dying of suspense."
O'Reilly groaned: "That fellow, Sebastian, knew his business. This
cement is like steel, and I'm afraid of breaking my crowbar."
Rosa found a leaf, folded a kiss into it, and dropped it to him.
"That will give you strength," she declared.
O'Reilly lost all count of time after a while and he was
incredulous when Jacket came to warn him that daylight was less
than an hour away. "Why, I haven't started!" he protested.
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