Feet shuffled on the stone floor. The voices ceased abruptly. And then, like a jack-in-the-box, there popped through the trap a head and shoulders.
The new arrival was a young man with a shock of red hair, a broken nose, and a mouth from which force or the passage of time had removed three front teeth. He held on to the edge of the trap, and stared up at John.
John beamed down at him, and shifted his grip on the stick.
"Who's here?" he cried. "Historic picture. 'Old Dr. Cook discovers the North Pole.'"
The red-headed young man blinked. The strong light of the open air was trying to his eyes.
"Youse had best come down," he observed coldly. "We've got youse."
"And," continued John, unmoved, "is instantly handed a gum-drop by his faithful Eskimo."
As he spoke, he brought the stick down on the knuckles which disfigured the edges of the trap. The intruder uttered a howl and dropped out of sight. In the passage below there were whisperings and mutterings, growing gradually louder till something resembling coherent conversation came to John's ears, as he knelt by the trap making meditative billiard shots with the stick at a small pebble.
"Aw g'wan! Don't be a quitter."
"Who's a quitter?"