"Why, what does?" "Joeydone, or Sueydone, or something like that they calls it. It arn't so very bad. Might go now, sir, mightn't I?" "Well, yes, if you mean to try." "Oh yes, I mean to try, sir," he said. "Dessay I can manage it. Shall I start?" "Yes," I replied, and without a moment's pause he rose, thrust his head and shoulders into the hole, and as he drew himself in, he began to whistle. "He'd better save his wind," grumbled Dumlow. "He'll want it soon." "Ay, that's the worst o' young chaps, they're so wasteful," muttered Bob Hampton. "But they thinks they knows best. How are you getting on, messmate?" "Tidy--tidy!" came back. "It arn't so very tight." The rustling went on, and I heard Dumlow whisper-- "When he holloas, let's fetch him out with a will." "Ay, ay, but he don't holloa," said Bob. "Why, he've got farder than we did." "Nay, not he. Why, he have though!" For the whistling went on, just a softened hissing, and it was evident that Barney had got some distance in. What was more was that he was still progressing. "He's going to do it, Bob!" I cried excitedly. "Getting a bit farder, sir, that's all," replied Bob. "But what I wants to know is, how are we going to get hold on his legs when he gets stuck? There won't be no reaching on 'em, as I can see." "Hadn't yer better hail him to hold hard, and come back for us to hitch a line round one of his fins?" "Which line would you use, messmate?" said Bob dryly. "The old 'un or the noo 'un?" "Eh? Which on 'em?" "Ay. Why, there arn't no line down here, is there? What yer talking about?" "No," muttered Dumlow, thoughtfully; "there arn't no line down here, o' course. I never thought o' that. But s'pose he gets stuck fast, as he will farder on, what's to be done?" "I d'know, without old Jarette comes and has the cargo out. Why, where's he got to!" I was listening intently, but the whistling and rustling had ceased, and half in alarm, half hopeful that he would find a way through to where our companions were imprisoned, I strained my ears longingly for some suggestion of how far Barney could be. All at once the sound recommenced, stopped, began again, and then much nearer than I had expected there came a struggling and panting, which made my blood run cold. "He's hitched," muttered Bob Hampton, and then in quite a low voice he cried into the opening-- "Where are you, mate?" "Here," came back in a smothered voice. "I knowed he would," growled Dumlow. "He's got fast, and now what's to be done?"