Keeping close behind him, George entered the stable. The boy stopped in the corner.
"Here's the ladder. I will go up fust and give yer a hand when yer gets to the top."
George stood quiet until his companion had mounted, and then ascended the ladder, which was fixed against the wall. Presently a voice whispered in his ear:
"Give us your hand. Mind how yer puts your foot."
In a minute he was standing in the loft. His companion drew him along in the darkness, and in a few steps arrived at a pile of hay.
"There yer are," Bill said in a low voice; "yer 'ave only to make yourself comfortable there. Now mind you don't fall down one of the holes into the mangers."
"I wish we had a little light," George said, as he ensconced himself in the hay.
"I will give you some light in a minute," Bill said, as he left his side, and directly afterwards a door opened and the light of a gaslight in the yard streamed in.
"That's where they pitches the hay in," Bill said as he rejoined him. "I shuts it up afore I goes to sleep, 'cause the master he comes out sometimes when the carts comes in, and there would be a blooming row if he saw it open; but we are all right now."
"That's much nicer," George said. "Now here's a loaf I brought with me. We will cut it in half and put by a half for the morning, and eat the other half between us now, and I have got some cheese here too."