"Gone in here," he jerked, as he climbed cautiously up.
"Can't have gone far, then," panted John. "Sure it was him?"
"Had him by the foot, but he got loose. Here we are," as he poked about,
and came at last on the hole below the slab. "Come on, John ... can't be
far away.... Big hole"--as he kicked about down below--"no bottom, far
as I can see."
"Best wait for daylight, to see where we're getting."
"Oui gia! Man doux, it's not me's going down here till I know what's
below."
So they sat and kicked their heels and waited for the day, certain in
their own minds that their quarry was run to earth and as good as
caught.
Gard had swept down both his coat and his cloth full of eggs in his
sudden entrance. He stood at the bottom of the well to see if they would
follow, while Peter's long legs kicked about for foothold. He heard them
decide to wait for daylight, and then he noiselessly picked up his coat
and his soppy bundle of broken eggs, pushed them into the tunnel, and
crawled in after them.
He was trapped, indeed, but he doubted very much if any fisherman on
Sark would venture down that tunnel.
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