A CHILD OF THE JAGO
much, as he pushed the frame up evenly, with a thumb at each side. They waited, but it was quiet still, and Josh, sitting on the sill, manœuvred his legs, one at a time, through the narrow opening. Then, turning over, he let himself down and beckoned Bill Rann to follow.
Bill Rann had a small tin box, with an inch of candle on the inside of one end, so that when the wick was lit the contrivance made a simple but an effective lantern, the light whereof shone in front alone, and could be extinguished at a puff. Now a match was struck, and a quick view taken of the wash-house.
There was not much about; only cracked and greasy plates, jars, tins, pots and pans, and in a corner a miscellaneous heap, plainly cheap pilferings covered with a bit of old carpet. The air was offensive with the characteristic smell of Weech's—the smell of stale pickles.
"There ain't nothin' to waste time
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