We handed him the net, and he began banging and thrusting at the rock for some time without result.
“Well, isn’t he coming?” I cried.
“No; he gets up in a corner here so that I can only feel his slippery tail with the stick, and he won’t come out.”
“Take hold of it with your hand and pull,” said Bigley.
“Oh yes, I daresay. Just as if I didn’t know there’s only one place where you can hold on.”
“Where’s that?” said Bigley.
“With your hand in his mouth. You come and put yours in.”
Of course Bigley did not respond to the invitation, and the banging and rattling went on for a few minutes longer.
“Why don’t you chaps stand away from the light? I can’t see,” cried Bob. “That’s better: now I can tell. Look out, boys, look out! Here he comes.”
“Catch him in the net, Bob,” I shouted.