There was no mistake this time; the flag was raised and lowered five or six times. The boys took to their heels and ran and gathered in a cluster fifty yards away on the hill-side.
“What can it be?” they asked, looking in each others’ pale faces.
The behaviour of the flag seemed to them something supernatural.
“We had better go back and tell them at home,” one of them said.
“We can’t do that; no one would believe us. Look here, you fellows,” and he glanced round at the bright sky, “this is nonsense; the flag could not wave of itself; there must be somebody alive below; perhaps there is a shepherd’s hut quite covered with the drift, and they have pushed the flag up through the chimney.”
The supposition seemed a reasonable one, and a little ashamed of their panic the group returned towards the flag. The eldest boy again approached it.
“Go carefully, Tomkins, or you may fall right down a chimney.”
The flag was still continuing its up and down movement; the boy approached and lay down on the snow close to it; then he took hold of the stick; he felt a pull, but held fast; then he put his mouth close to the hole, two or three inches in diameter, through which it passed.
“Halloa!” he shouted; “is any one below?”
A cry of “Yes, yes,” came back in reply. “The two Jacksons and Humphreys.”