Chapter Ten.
Into the Sunlight again.
There was a loud splashing noise, another cry, and the gurgling made by someone being dragged under water; and then, just as I felt that the horror was greater than I could bear, the carpenter cried:
“What’s the matter with you? Don’t make a row like that.”
“I—I felt something ketch hold of me and pulling me down.”
“Something! Do you call me something?” growled the carpenter. “Of course I catched hold of you. You’d catch hold if you tumbled as I did. Bad job about the light, master.”
“Yes, a very bad job,” said my uncle’s voice out of the darkness. “How was it?”
“Stepped down into some hole, sir. Felt myself going right into a crack-like sort o’ place.”
“All stand still, then,” cried my uncle, “while I strike a match. Where’s the lanthorn?”
“Oh, I’ve got that fast, sir; but you won’t get the wick to light, I’m afraid, now.”