"Arthur, are you there, all right?"
And his heart leapt as a shrill reply came back from the heights.
"Oakshott is here with me," shouted the master.
It was all a mistake about not being able to hear from the level ground.
Dig heard the "Hallo! what cheer, Dig?" as plainly as he heard
Railsford himself.
"What cheer?" he howled in reply. "Keep up your pecker, old man."
"Rather!" yelled Arthur.
Then Dig begged and besought Railsford to allow him to mount at least to
where the latter stood, and the master made him happy by consenting.
From this point it was easy to carry on a talk; and there in the rain
through the dark watches of the night those three had one of the most
profitable conversations they had ever enjoyed. A yokel who chanced to
pass, hearing those weird, celestial voices, took to his heels and ran a
mile straight off, and reported with ashy face and trembling lips that a
ghost had appeared on the arch of the abbey as he passed, and called to
him thrice, and had shrieked with demoniacal laughter as he hurried from
the accursed place.
Towards dawn the rain ceased, and the three watchers, despite all their
efforts, became drowsy. When Farmer White and two of his men arrived on
the scene with a long ladder and a rope, they had to stand and shout
from below for a minute or so before Railsford started into wakefulness
and remembered where he was. As for Dig, he lay with his cheek buried
in the wet ivy, sleeping as soundly as if he had been in the dormitory
at school.
It was no easy task to get Arthur down from his dizzy perch. In the
first place, he was so sound asleep that it was impossible to rouse him
from below; consequently he could give no assistance in his own rescue.
The ladder was far too short to reach within a quarter of the distance
of where he was; and for a long time it seemed as if the ropes might as
well have been left at home.
At length, however, by a combined effort the ladder was hoisted on to
the top of the wall, and so elevated it reached a point on the arch
above the place where the stones had given way. The difficulty was to
secure it on the narrow ledge in any way so that it could be ascended
safely. When, finally, by dint of careful adjustment and rigid holding
at the bottom, it was pronounced reasonably safe, Dig was most eager to
volunteer the ascent, urging that he was the lightest weight, and that
the four men could do more good in holding the ladder.
"The lad's right," said the farmer; "let him go up."
Railsford was forced to consent. It would have been obviously risky for
a heavy man to ascend that rickety ladder. Dig rarely felt so proud and
happy as when he skipped lightly up the rungs and reached the ivy-
covered masonry of the arch.
It was not a difficult climb to the top, and it was as well it was not,
for in his eagerness he forgot the admonitions of caution he had
received below, and scrambled up as recklessly as if he had been
ascending a London tramcar. His heart beat as at last he came upon his
dear old friend.
Arthur sat sound asleep, his hands behind his head, his legs hanging
over the edge of the arch, and his back propped in the angle formed by
the junction of the window and the fragment of the old roof. Lucky for
him was that natural armchair; for without it, at the first fall of
sleep, he would undoubtedly have rolled from his perch into the depths
below. Dig approached him gently and discreetly.
"Nearly time to get up, old chappie," said he, laying his hand on the
sleeper's arm to prevent any sudden start.
That "nearly" was a stroke of genius. Had he incautiously announced
that the chapel-bell had begun to ring, or that he would be late for
call-over, the result might have been fatal.