"No, I’d better go first," said Sam hastily, looking round with something of his former air of timorous expectation. "You see, if you go first, the brim of yer hat will shet out all the light, and I’ll miss my footing and be nawthin’ but scattered members. But if I go first, do ’ee see, and you come close behind me—but not close enough to set my stockings afire—the light will be ekal betwixt us two. Do ’ee see my manin’, Maister Dick?" "Quite plain. I don’t mind. We’ll try one or two of the staples first, to make sure they are firm in the stonework, and then you can mount, and as your hind foot leaves one step, my fore hand will clutch it." The staples stood the test of pulling, first by Dick, then by Sam, who also tried them, on the plea that he had more muscle. Then Sam began to climb, followed closely by Dick. After an ascent of perhaps a hundred feet, the former declared that he felt a whiff of fresh air, and immediately afterwards the candle flame was blown out. Looking up past Sam’s fore-shortened body, Dick saw one star in the clear dark vault of the sky, and in a few seconds they were both standing on the ground beside the well-head, cooled by the breeze that blew through the ruined walls of the chapel from the sea. The roof had gone long ago; grass grew on the floor, and ivy twined itself in and out of the mullioned windows. "There!" said Dick. "We are safe, you see. All that talk of ghosts is pure balderdash." The darkness and the weird associations of the spot combined to make him set his tone of voice to a murmur. At that moment there fell upon the ears of the boys, as they stood side by side to recover breath after their climb, a low sound from somewhere beyond the walls, but not far away. It was like that of a person speaking in hollow, mournful accents. Sam caught Dick by the arm; Dick heard his teeth chatter. "’Tis he!" whispered the trembling boy. "’Tis the ghost! Oh! let me hide myself afore he see I." Dick did not reply. He was, it must be confessed, sufficiently startled. The sound ceased; but in a moment or two it recommenced, now being somewhat louder. Dick was in two minds, now thinking that he would run, now wondering whether he had not better stay. The slow droning still approached, and at last he caught articulate words: "A-deary me! A-deary me! The world’s a-cold, a bitter place for——" The next words were indistinguishable. "Hark to him!" whispered Sam. "He be in mortal pain, and I do feel that leery all down the small o’ my back." Dick sniffed, and sniffed again. Then he said: "Ghosts don’t smoke, Sam—at any rate, not tobacco. I’m going to see." "How do ’ee know?" whispered Sam, still holding him by the arm. "I won’t be so much afeard of him if he do be smoking bacca, but it may be summat else. It do smell rayther strong for a livin’ man."