‘So the man he went off, and Palmer too, and us boys stopped behind, and I says to Evans, “Did you really see anything in there?” “Yes,” he says, “I did indeed.” So then I says, “Let’s shove something in and stir it up.” And we tried several of the bits of wood that was laying about, but they were all too big. Then Evans he had a sheet of music he’d brought with him, an anthem or a service, I forget which it was now, and he rolled it up small and shoved it in the chink; two or three times he did it, and nothing happened. “Give it me, boy,” I said, and I had a try. No, nothing happened. Then, I don’t know why I thought of it, I’m sure, but I stooped down just opposite the chink and put my two fingers in my mouth and whistled—you know the way—and at that I seemed to think I heard something stirring, and I says to Evans, “Come away,” I says; “I don’t like this.” “Oh, rot,” he says, “Give me that roll,” and he took it and shoved it in. And I don’t think ever I see any one go so pale as he did. “I say, Worby,” he says, “it’s caught, or else some one’s got hold of it.” “Pull it out or leave it,” I says, “Come and let’s get off.” So he gave a good pull, and it came away. Leastways most of it did, but the end
