As soon as they arrived, a long ladder was procured and carried up into Capitola's chamber, and let down through the trap-door. Fortunately it was long enough, for when the foot of the ladder found the floor of the cellar, the head rested securely against the edge of the opening.
In a moment the two constables began singly to descend, the foremost one carrying a lighted candle in his hand.
The remaining members of the party, consisting of Major Warfield, Capitola, Mrs. Condiment, and some half dozen neighbors, remained gathered around the open trap-door, waiting, watching, and listening for what might next happen.
Presently one of the constables called out:
"Major Warfield, sir!"
"Well!" replied Old Hurricane.
"He's a-breathing still, sir; but seems badly hurt, and may be a-dying, seeing as he's unsensible and unspeakable. What shall we do long of him?"
"Bring him up! let's have a look at the fellow, at any rate!" exclaimed Old Hurricane, peremptorily.
"Just so, sir! but some of the gem-men up there'll have to come down on the ladder and give a lift. He's a dead weight now, I tell your honor!"
Several of the neighbors immediately volunteered for the service, and two of the strongest descended the ladder to lend their aid.