It was a narrow squeeze for a man of my size, yet I crept through without great difficulty, and found myself in the dense darkness of a room which, as I judged hastily from feeling about me, was similar in shape and extent to the one in which I had been confined.
Bungay, however, permitted me little time for exploration. Grasping me firmly by one arm, and feeling his way along the wall, he groped across to the other side.
“There's a mighty big stone chimbly comes down yere, Cap,” he whispered, his lips close to my ears, although the noise above made conversation in an ordinary tone perfectly safe. “An' ther openin' ter take out soot an' ashes is up thar, jist b'low ther fluer. It's a sheet-iron pan, I reckon, ther way it feels; an' it must be thar they put a nigger in ter clean ther chimbly whin it gits stuffed up. I could git up thar alone, but I couldn't do no work, but thet thar pan ought ter cum out all right. Dew ye think ye cud hoi' me up, Cap? I'm purty durn heavy.”
I smiled in the darkness at the little fellow's egotism, and lifting him as I might a child, poised him lightly upon my shoulder. He struggled a moment to steady himself against the wall, and then I could feel him tugging eagerly at something which appeared to yield slowly to his efforts. As he worked, a dense shower of dust and soot caused me to close my eyes.
“She's a comin' all right,” he said cheerfully, puffing with his exertions, “but I reckon as how this chimbly ain't bin cleaned out since ther war begun. Hold up yer right han', Cap, an' git a blame good grip on her, fer she's almighty full, an'll wanter go down sorter easy like.”
I did as he suggested, bracing myself to meet his movements, as he stood straining on my shoulders, and in another moment I had succeeded in lowering the large sheet-iron pan silently to the floor.
“Room 'nough yere fer two men ter oncet,” chuckled my companion, in rare delight. “'The chief in silence strode before.' Yere goes.”
His weight left my shoulders; there was a slight scramble, another shower of dirt, then the sound of his voice once more.
“Lift up yer han's, Cap; dig in yer toes on ther stones, an' we'll begin our vi'ge.”
He grasped my wrists with a strength which I had no conception the little fellow possessed. There was a moment's breathless struggle, and I squirmed through the opening, and lay panting on the flat slabs which composed the foot of the great funnel. To afford me more room Bungay had gone up a little, finding foot-lodgment upon the uneven stones of which the chimney was constructed. For a moment we rested thus motionless, both breathing heavily and listening to the music and shuffling of feet now almost upon a level with our heads.