“That’s it. Now together. Let’s get to the wall.”
There was a rustling noise and then a rattle.
“Phew! Shins!” cried Jem. “Oh, dear me. That’s barrel staves, I know the feel on ’em. Such sharp edges, Mas’ Don. Mind you don’t tread on the edge of a hoop, or it’ll fly up and hit you right in the middle.”
Flip!
“There, I told you so. Hurt you much, my lad?”
“Not very much, Jem. Now then; feel your way with me. Let’s go all round the place, perhaps there’s another way out.”
“All right, sir. Well, it might be, but I say as it couldn’t be darker than this if you was brown sugar, and shut up in a barrel in the middle o’ the night.”
“Now I am touching the wall, Jem,” said Don. “I’m going to feel all round. Can you hear anything?”
“Only you speaking, my lad.”
“Come along then.”