The Mystery at Bob-White Cave

this stalagmite, then around your waist. After running the other end around in back of you, I’ll tie it around my waist. Now, brace your feet against that stone and sit back. See, Honey, what is there to be afraid of?”
    “A million things. I just don’t like it one bit.”
    Trixie squeezed her arm reassuringly. “Take another look, Honey. We can light up the whole inside of the well. See? Mart can run the rope around his waist when he’s braced as he is now, and he can easily hold me. If he slips at all. I’ll be holding on to a spare rope fastened to that stalagmite. See all those ledges that line the inside? It’s easy as stepping down a ladder. Why, Honey, before you even know it, I’ll be down there and sending up a bucket of ghost fish.”
    Honey just stood and watched, looking worried.
    Mart put himself in the proper position at the edge of the hole and let down the spare rope. Then Trixie grasped the belay rope, wrapped the end of it firmly about her waist, and knotted it. “See, Honey, we’ve fastened the ropes, Mart and I, just the way mountain climbers do!” she said, and she fastened her flashlight to her belt, pushed the dip net through a loop, and slipped the bail of the bucket over her arm.
    Then, her gloved hands grasping the spare rope, she grinned encouragingly at Honey and stepped back over the rim to the first ledge, a knee’s length below.
    Lower and lower Trixie went, with Mart letting out the rope. She mustn’t look up. That was against cave rules, for even a small bit of sand could get into her eyes. So she kept her head turned down, her carbide lamp lighting the way ahead of her, and, the rope firm above her, went from step to step, lower, lower, lower, till she stood in shallow water at the bottom of the sinkhole.
    The floor was swarming with small, round, white worms, the food the man from the magazine said was best for the fish. Without looking up, she called to Mart, “I’ll send up a bucket of worms first.” Her voice echoed and reechoed, booming from wall to wall till it escaped at the rim.
    Mart called something back, but the sound disintegrated so that Trixie couldn’t understand a word. She filled the bucket, gave two short jerks to the spare rope, and felt the bucket start to lift.
    Tiny ghost fish, alarmed at the motion of her net in the water, darted frantically out of sight. On the other side more swam into view. This water runs right through the bottom of this hole , Trixie thought, bringing the fish in with the net.
    The empty bucket came down on the rope and plopped into the water beside Trixie. She waited, watched, then dip, splash—eureka! Two small fish went into her bucket. She got a crayfish, then another, and all the while she watched for more fish.
    Close to where she was standing, a yellowish lizardlike creature crept, its blob of a head too big for its body, and its legs almost too weak to hold its weight. Trixie popped it into the bucket, jerked her signal to Mart, and the bucket moved up.
    I hope I can send up more fish next time , she thought and looked intently into the shallow water. Fish, worms, everything had disappeared!
    What can have happened? she thought—then became terrified. Water was creeping higher on her boots. It was running in from some hidden source— rising!
    “I have to get out of here!” Trixie muttered. She was aware at the same moment of Mart’s voice, and the shrill voice of Honey. They're warning me! she thought as the belay rope slapped against her waist and the spare rope twirled back down. They're scared , too.
    “I’m coming!” she called up. “Pull, Mart! Pull! I’m coming! I’m coming right now.”
    The water had nearly reached the top of her boots as she held the rope taut and began to climb up.
    What had seemed so easy in descent became a nightmare. Small ledges that had held her corrugated soles so easily on the way down escaped her feet as she sought anchorage. The trickle of water that had dripped over the brim as she started down became a cascade, dousing her carbide lamp as her feet slipped from any hold, and she swung free in the cold, inky darkness.
    “Mart!” she called frantically.
    If any answer came, it was drowned in the roar of the waterfall that threatened to drown her from above.
    Prayerfully, Trixie held on. She managed to loop the spare rope about her right hand, and she held on with all her strength. Her body hung like a pendulum as she swung from side to side. Terrified, she reached