The next night, after midnight, the boy went over the rocks again, carrying the pieces of rough wood with nails in, and the gramophone slung carefully over his shoulder. He reached the shore safely and made his way cautiously up the cliff.
And very soon Tom, half asleep, heard the queer hollow voice rumbling round his cave once more. "Tom! Are you asteep?"
Tom climbed on the chest and put his head to the hole. "Hallo, Andy!" he said. "I'm not asleep. I've been waiting and waiting for you!"
"There's a bit of wood with nails in coming down the hole," said Andy. "Scrape at your end with it and try your best to make the hole larger. I've got one too. I'll scrape my end. Look out that you don't get your eyes full of bits falling down."
The two boys set to work. Both of them scraped and dug for all they were worth. The soil was very dry and sandy, and was easy to move. Heaps of it fell down to Tom's end and he had to dodge it every now and again.
At last Andy's hole was quite big enough to get into. He called softly to Tom. "How are you getting on? My end is big enough for you to get out. I've got a rope I can let down to you if you are ready."
"I'm nearly ready," answered Tom, scraping hard. "Just a minute or two more!"
And then, at last, his end was large enough to climb into! The boy put another chest on the top of the one he was standing on and knelt upon it. His head and shoulders were right in the hole—he stood up and almost disappeared in the long narrow funnel.
"Wait a minute, Tom," said Andy. "I've got something I want to let down on the rope. It's the gramophone."
"The what?" asked Tom, in astonishment, thinking he couldn't have heard aright.