“Don’t do that, mate,” came to him in a sharp whisper from the wall. “Ketch hold and steady it while I run it to you.”
Sam caught hold of the ladder eagerly, forgetting the pain in satisfaction, and the next minute the bottom round rested on the top of the wall. Then Pete crept over, slug fashion, and lifted the end off and set it down.
“There y’are,” he said.
“What a while you’ve been,” whispered Sam.
“Oh, have I! Juss you go and fetch it yerself, and see how quick you’d be. It was worth two shillin’ to go for that; there, hyste it up and in with you.”
“Hoist the ladder by myself?”
“Yes, it’s easy enough. Bottom’s heavy and top’s light. Shall I do it?”
“Yes, quickly.”
“’Nother shillin’. I arn’t going to have nothing to do with it, and so I tell yer, without.”
“I wish you wouldn’t speak so loudly,” whispered Sam impatiently.