He looked at it, half contemptuously, and turned to the barrel. “See if everything’s all right,” he said. “If we’re going to take risks--we’ve got to be ready.” The woman lifted the lantern, and he pushed against the barrel. It yielded to his weight--the upper part turning slowly on a pivot. Something inside swashed against the sides as it turned. The man bent over the hole and peered in. He stepped down cautiously, feeling with his foot and disappearing, inch by inch, into the opening. The woman held the light above him, looking down with quick, tense eyes... a hand reached up to her, out of the hole, beckoning for the lantern and she knelt down, guiding it toward the waving fingers. A sound of something creaking--a hinge half turned--caught her breath--and she leaned forward, blowing at the lantern. She got quickly to her feet and groped for the swinging barrel, turning it swiftly over the hole--the liquid chugged softly against its side--and stopped. Her breath listened up into the darkness. The door above creaked again softly--and a shuffling foot groped at the stair. “You down there--Lena?” called an old voice. She laughed out softly, moving toward the stair. “Go to bed, father.” “What you doing down there?” asked the old voice in the darkness. “Testing the barrel,” said the woman. “John’s gone down.” She came to the foot of the stair. “You go to bed, father--” “_You_ better come to bed--all of ye,” grumbled the old man. “We’re coming--in a minute.” She heard his hand fumble at the door--and it creaked again--softly--and closed. She groped her way back to the barrel, waiting beside it in the darkness. XXIX UPSTAIRS When the man’s head reappeared, he came up briskly. “All right?” she asked. “All right,” he responded. “Did you test the other end?” “Right enough--” said the man. “Safe as a church! The water barrel in the garden stuck a little--but I eased it up--” He looked back into the hole, as he stepped out. “Too bad we had to take _her_ down,” he said regretfully. “The police _might_ ’a’ stopped,” said the woman. “You couldn’t tell.” They swung the barrel in place, and blew out the lantern, and the man ascended the stair. After a few minutes the woman came up. The kitchen was empty. The fire burning briskly cast a line of light beneath the hearth, and on the top of the stove the kettle hummed quietly. She lighted a lamp and lifted the kettle, filling her dishpan with soft steam.... Any one peering in at the open window would have seen only a tall woman, with high shoulders, bending above her cloud of steam and washing dishes, with a quiet, round face absorbed in thought.