ouched nothing; a thrust to left had no better
result; and then he stood and wiped his brow.

"I wonder what I shall find," he said to himself. "Cases and tubs, or
old coffins."

He thrust out the sword once more straight in front of him, and this
time it touched wood, and made him shiver.

For a few moments he did not care to move and investigate farther; but
rousing himself once more, he tried again with his hand, to find that he
touched hoops and staves, and that it was a goodly-sized tub.

He tried again, cautiously, feeling carefully with one foot before he
attempted to move another, for the thought struck him that not very far
from him the opening down into that terrible well must be yawning in the
floor, and under these circumstances he moved most carefully.

He found that he need not have been so cautious, for after a little more
of this obscure investigation he learned that he was in a very
circumscribed area, surrounded on all sides by a most heterogeneous
collection of tubs, full and empty, rough cases, bales, ropes, blocks,
and iron tackle, such as might be used in a fishing-boat; and the next
thing his hands encountered was a pile of fishing-nets.

It was as he had expected: the vault or cellar below the chapel was full
of the stores belonging to the smugglers, and his task now was to find
his way out.

It was of no avail to wish for flint and steel, to try, if only by the
light of a few sparks, to dispel this terrible darkness, which seemed to
surround and close him in, prisoning his faculties, as it were, and
preventing him, now he had got so far, from making his escape.

There was always the dread of coming upon that terrible well acting like
a bar to further progress. Then there was the utter helplessness of his
position. Which way was he to go?

"At all events," he said to himself at last, "I can't go down the well
if I'm climbing over tubs;" and he felt his way to the place where he
had first touched a cask, and climbing up, he found that he could
progress a little way, always getting higher, with many an awkward slip;
and then he had to stop, for his head touched the roof.

A trial to right and left had no better result, and there was nothing
for it but to return and begin elsewhere.

This he did, crawling over nets and boxes and packages, whose kind and
shape he could not make out, but he always seemed to be stopped, try
where he would, and at last, panting and hot with his exertions,