Shirley refused to look as Sarah carefully turned the stone over. There were numerous little crawling creatures beneath it and several white slugs.
"I suppose you've murdered a hundred, but I can't see them," Sarah reported. "If I had something to scrape them up with, I could save some."
"Don't play with bugs, Sarah," pleaded Shirley, who knew too well the fatal attraction of all creeping and crawling things for her sister. "I don't like bugs. Leave them alone."
"All right, I will," said Sarah with surprising amiability. "We'll go back to the cave; I'll take this stone and you needn't take any."
Back to the windmill they went and nothing would please Sarah but closing the door again. She liked the dark, she said.
"What's that?" cried Shirley, starting. "I heard a noise, Sarah."
Sarah had heard it, too.
"It's the clanking chains," she declared with relish.
"What clanking chains?" whispered Shirley fearfully.
"The chains we put on our prisoners," said Sarah whose imagination was stimulated by the dark pit in which she found herself.