"Get him in the hole," said William, "an' then—an' then—I dunno yet," he ended uncertainly.
The man bent down for another spadeful.
"Come on!" said William.
They crept across the lawn and suddenly overturned the heap of fresh-dug earth that was on the edge of the hole upon its occupant, using feet and hands and head and body. It all happened in a second. The man, up to his neck in the sudden avalanche of damp garden soil, looked up at them, sputtering anger and earth.
"I say! I say, you know," he said. "Look here!"
William leant over the edge of the hole.
"You jus' gotter stop it," he said fiercely. "D'you see? You jus' gotter stop it!"
The young man gazed at him in amazement. He made no effort to arise. He lay back on his earthen couch.
"You've jolly well winded me, you young devil!" he said, still ejecting earth from his mouth as he spoke. "Stop what?"
"You know," said William mysteriously, bending still farther over the edge of the hole. "You jolly well know, doesn't he, Ginger? How'd you like someone to do it to you—murderin' you an' buryin' you in back gardens? Jus' think of that! Jus' think of how you'd like other folk doin' it to you, 'fore you start doin' it to other folks."