Phil gulped. “That sounds like an awful lot of work,” he said. “And even harder to get up again.”
“Nobody’s twisting your arm and making you go,” Bill said.
Ronnie went first, holding Bill’s flashlight. The others waited above in the darkness, peering over the edge to watch Ronnie’s progress. Ronnie had no trouble lowering himself to the ground level. Then he sent the light from the flashlight down into the hole Williams had dug.
The remains of an old ladder lay in pieces along the sides of the hole. Ronnie noticed, too, that steps had been made leading down to the top of the culvert—pieces of split log hammered into the earth but protruding far enough to provide a foothold.
The boy tried the first one. It sustained his weight. He tried another—and another. He looked up at Bill and Phil and grinned. Things were going just fine!
He smiled too soon. The fourth step broke under his weight. His feet flew out from under him and his back struck the side of the hole. He slid the rest of the way, carrying with him an avalanche of dirt and pebbles.
Luckily, he managed to keep himself from plunging through the opening in the brickwork and down into the culvert. “You all right?” he heard Bill calling down.
“I’m O.K.,” he answered. His voice echoed back hollow and distant from within the culvert.
He sat down with his legs hanging over the edge of the broken brickwork and flashed the light down into the darkness. The bottom looked sandy—silt carried there by the drainage water over many years. There was no way to climb in. He’d have to drop.
He tucked the flashlight under his belt beneath his raincoat and began to slip forward. Then, when he was on the very edge, he let his body fall forward.