“Most likely,” said Nicholas, “But for your being in it, we would stop up this hole, and bury the two wretches alive.”

“Get me out first, good Master Nicholas, I implore of you, and then do what you please,” cried Potts.  “Jem is tugging at my legs as if he would pull them off.”

“We will try who is strongest,” said Nicholas, again seizing hold of Potts by the shoulders.

“Oh, dear! oh, dear!  I can’t bear it—­let go!” shrieked the attorney.  “I shall be stretched to twice my natural length.  My joints are starting from their sockets, my legs are coming off—­oh! oh!”

“Lend a hand here, one of you,” cried Nicholas to the men; “we’ll have him out, whatever be the consequence.”

“But I won’t come!” roared Potts.  “You have no right to use me thus.  Torture! oh! oh! my loins are ruptured—­my back is breaking—­I am a dead man.—­The hag has got hold of my right leg, while Jem is tugging with all his force at the left.”

“Pull away!” cried Nicholas; “he is coming.”

“My legs are off,” yelled Potts, as he was plucked suddenly forth, with a jerk that threw the squire and his assistants on their backs.  “I shall never be able to walk more.  No, Heaven be praised!” he added, looking down on his lower limbs, “I have only lost my boots.”

“Never mind it, then,” cried Nicholas; “but thank your stars you are above ground once more.  Hark’ee, Jem!” he continued, shouting down the hole; “If you don’t come forth at once, and bring Mother Demdike with you, we’ll close up the mouth of this hole in such a way that you sha’n’t require another grave.  D’ye hear?”

“Yeigh,” replied Jem, his voice coming hoarsely and hollowly up like the accents of a ghost.  “Am ey to go free if ey comply?”

“Certainly not,” replied the squire.  “You have a choice between this hole and the hangman’s cord at Lancaster, that is all.  In either case you will die by suffocation.  But be quick—­we have wasted time enough already with you.”

“Then if that’s aw yo’ll do fo’ me, squire, eyn e’en stay wheere ey am,” rejoined Jem.

“Very well,” replied Nicholas.  “Here, my man, stop up this hole with earth and stones.  Master Potts, you will lend a hand to the task.”

“Readily, sir,” replied the attorney, “though I shall lose the pleasure I had anticipated of seeing that old carrion crow roasted alive.”

“Stay a bit, squoire,” roared Jem, as preparations were actively made for carrying Nicholas’s orders into execution.  “Stay a bit, an ey’n cum owt, an bring t’ owd woman wi’ me.”

“I thought you’d change your mind,” replied Nicholas, laughing.  “Be upon your guard,” he added, in a low tone to the others, “and seize him the moment he appears.”

But Jem evidently found it no easy matter to perform his promise, for stifled shrieks and other noises proclaimed that a desperate struggle was going on between him and his grandmother.