“Yah! go on! nobody can’t hear us. Where’s that shillin’?”
“I told you I wouldn’t give you any more,” said Sam, stoutly now, “and I won’t.”
Pete chuckled.
“All right; I’ll hyste the ladder, only mind you telled me to—it was your doing.”
“Yes, my doing,” said Sam, who was full of nervous impatience. “Be smart; here, I’ll help.”
“I can do it,” said Pete, and with two or three sharp jerks he raised the ladder right on end, and then, after working it round two or three times, let the light narrow end down against the railing, just in front of the long shutter on the rounded roof.
“Will it bear me?” whispered Sam nervously.
“Bear a dozen on yer. Up you goes, and I’ll keep watch. If young Tom Ugly Blount comes, shall I give him one over the head?”
“Yes,” whispered Sam, as he began to mount.
“Shove yer hand under the door, and yer can feel the bolt directly. You can open it. Look alive.”