Of all the row of tall poplars which he had seen bending
like whips before the wind as he came along but one remained standing
now, and as he pointed that vanished also.
Reaching the summer house in safety, they entered, and the Colonel
shut and locked the door behind them. The frail building was literally
rocking in the fury of the storm.
"I hope the roof will hold," shouted George, but Harold took no heed.
He was thinking of other things. They lit the lanterns, of which they
now had three, and the Colonel slid down into the great grave he had
so industriously dug, motioning to George to follow. This that worthy
did, not without trepidation. Then they both knelt and stared down
through the hole in the masonry, but the light of the lanterns was not
strong enough to enable them to make out anything with clearness.
"Well," said George, falling back upon his favourite expression in his
amazement, as he drew his nightcapped head from the hole, "if that
ain't a master one, I niver saw a masterer, that's all.
"What be you a-going to du now, Colonel? Hev you a ladder here?"
"No," answered Harold, "I never thought of that, but I've a good rope:
I'll get it."
Scrambling out of the hole, he presently returned with a long coil of
stout rope.
Pages:
432
433
434
435
436
437
438
439
440
441
442
443
444
445
446
447
448
449
450
451
452
453
454
455
456