“Tie it tightly, Scar,” cried Fred.
“Never fear. Mind the rope is so that it will uncoil easily. There, run it down, and let’s see if it is long enough to get to the bottom.”
Fred raised the rings of stiff twisted hemp, and dropped them down out of sight; but it was evident that the rope did not descend very far, the main portion lodging only a little way down; but Fred raised it a yard or two and shook it, with the effect that more fell down and lodged, but only to be shaken loose again and again, showing plainly enough that the hole went down in a sharp slope for a long way, and then that the rope had dropped over a perpendicular part, for as it was drawn up and down it fell heavily now.
“There,” said Fred, “that’s it. I dare say that reaches the bottom. If it doesn’t, you must come up again. Ready?”
“Yes.”
And with all the recklessness of boys who never see the reality of danger until it is there, Scarlett stripped off his jerkin and lowered himself down into the crack, hanging with one arm over the pole for a few moments before seizing the rope, twisting his legs round it, and letting himself slide down.
“Keep on calling out what it’s like; and as soon as you get down, sing ‘Bottom!’ and then I’ll come too.”
Scarlett nodded, and let himself slide slowly, to find, and call up to his companion, that the hole went down at a slope into the darkness, so that he was not swinging by the rope, but supporting himself thereby, as he glided down over the shaley earth of which the hill was composed, but only to come to a sudden stop as he found that the hole zigzagged back in the opposite direction at a similar angle to that by which he had descended.
“Are you right?” cried Fred from above.
“Yes.”