One of the grave-diggers kicked the bucket off, and then they all set to work digging. Frantically, yet fearfully, they threw out the fresh earth. Their lanterns cast weird shadows about them, and dimly lighted up the somber tombstones near by. They scarcely said a word, but when they did, it was in a very low tone.
Thud! A shovel had at last struck the wooden box. It startled the men. They were not any less courageous than the average, but their surroundings and the peculiar situation in which they found themselves would have affected the nerves of anybody.
Quickly they cleared off the top of the coffin.
“Hello! Are you alive?” one of them called in a low voice.
There was no answer.
“I think Hardings imagined they heard the bell ring,” one of the men muttered.
“But didn’t we see the rope move?” another objected.
“Well, you can open the lid,” the first speaker added.
They held their two lanterns down inside the pit which they had just made. The yellow flames flickered and spluttered. The bravest of the four men used his shovel for a lever, and pried up the coffin top.
Slowly, hesitatingly, he peered inside. An unexpected movement from within would have caused him instantly to drop the lid.