Knapp crawled back, delighted.
"You're the sort," he chuckled, patting the lad on the back. "Quite the little man o war."
"Get to heel," snarled Kit. "Hold your tongue. Keep your paws to yourself. And address me respectfully and properly."
The drain ran away before them, a long black tunnel, focussing in a remote jewel of light. It was like the Alley of Life, cramped and dark, and at the far end of it a little door opening on heaven. And across the door the boy seemed to see written the one word
Nelson.
He advanced into the breathing darkness, his eye on that guiding light. Half-way down the drain a dim patch brightened the black floor. There was the man-hole; there was the danger-point.
He crept forward with groping hands. The bricks were cold and sweating, the atmosphere that of the grave. It seemed to smell of dead men. The boy felt as though a mountain was smothering him. He found himself breathing deep as though in difficulties.
Even Knapp, crawling at his heels, appeared affected.
The man was humming something in a dirge-like monotone. At first Kit thought it was some sort of a Litany; then he caught the words:
"Two little corpseses goes for a walk
In a church-yard under the sea,
Says the one to the other—
'I'll squeak if you'll squawk
To keep me company.'"