devil above and the unknown deep below and hung up on the mouldering wood.  He heard Ernest laugh then, and the sound was such as none had ever heard from him before—­more like a beast’s noise than a man’s.  Then his head disappeared and Amos was just wondering what next, when his nephew came to the hole again and dropped a great stone.  It shot past the wretched chap where he hung, just touching his elbow, and then Amos, seeing he was to be stoned to make sure, called upon God to save him alive.  He pressed back against the pit side, while the crumbling timber gave under him and threatened to let him down any moment, but the action saved his life, for the time being, for as he moved, down came another stone and then another.  Where the joists of the stage went in, however, was a bit of cover for the unfortunate chap—­just enough to keep him clear of the danger from above, and there he stuck, pressed to the rock like a lichen, with great stones going by so close that they curled his hair.  All was black as pitch and the young devil up over had no thought that his poor uncle was still alive.  Amos uttered no sound, and presently, his work done as he thought, Ernest began the next job and Gregory heard him making all snug overhead.  Soon the ray of starlight was blotted out and the pit mouth blocked up with timber first and stones afterwards; and Amos doubted not that his young relation had made the spot look as usual and blocked it so as nothing less than the trump of Doom would ever unseal it again.

And even if that weren’t so, he knew he could never climb up the five and twenty feet or more he’d fallen.  Indeed, at that moment the poor chap heartily wished he was at the bottom so dead as a hammer and battered to pulp and out of his misery.  For what remained?  Nought but a hideous end long drawn out.  In fact he felt exceeding sorry for himself, as well he might; but then his nature came to the rescue, and he told himself that where there was life there was hope; and he turned over the situation with his usual pluck and judgment and axed himself if there was anything left that he might do, to put up a fight against such cruel odds.

And he found there was but one thing alone.  He couldn’t go up and he felt only too sure the only part of him as would ever get out of that living grave was his immortal soul, when the end came; but he reckoned it might be possible to get down.  The only other course was to bide where he was, wait till morning, and then lift his voice and bawl in hope some fellow creature might hear and succour.  But as the only fellow being like to hear him was his nephew, there didn’t seem much promise to that.  He waited another half hour till he knew his murderer was certainly gone home; then he lighted matches and with the aid of the last two left in his box scanned the sides of the pit under him.  They were rough hewn, and given light he reckoned he could go down by ’em with a bit of luck and the Lord to guide his feet.  Then he considered how far it might be to the bottom, and dropped a piece of stone or two, and was a good bit heartened to find the distance weren’t so very tremendous.  In fact he judged himself to be about half-way down and reckoned that another thirty feet or thereabout would get him to the end.  He took off his coat then and flung it down; and next he started, with his heart in his mouth, to do or die.