“Yes,” said Bart; “do you know what it is?” “Me!” cried Pat; “sure didn’t I hear it close by me room? and didn’t I run for it?”. “It’s mighty queer,” said Jiggins. “I think we’d better go down,” said David Digg; “whatever it is, it’s something that we ought not to face.” “Nonsense, Bogud!” said Bart; “we’re going up.” “Up, is it?” cried Pat; “‘deed, then, an ye’d betther not! Ye don’t know what it is that’s up there.” As he spoke there sounded once more those peculiar knocks. “Many’s the time I heard that,” said Pat. “It’s a black, bad place.” “Wern’t you frightened?” asked Bogud, solemnly. “Sure it cudn’t make any differ whether I wor frightened or not. The likes of me’s got to bear thim things.” And now there came another uproar. It was yell after yell, so wild, so harsh, and so discordant, that the former noises were nothing in comparison. Bogud beat a hasty retreat, and Jiggins backed into his doorway. The other boys fell back a little, but the “B. O. W. C.” stood their ground, and Bruce put his foot on the lowest step to ascend to the attic. “Sure ye’ll not be goin up!” said Pat. “Yes, we will,” said Bart. “Come along--all of you.” “IPs kilt ye’ll be!” wailed Pat--“it’s dead intirely ye’ll find yerselves when ye come back!” “Come along, boys,” cried Phil, as he hurried up after Bruce. “Come, Pat. It’s all humbug.” “Come along,” cried Bart; “you needn’t pretend to be frightened, Pat; you’re only humbugging. It’s my belief that you know all about it. Can’t I tell by your face whether you’re really frightened or not?” “Me!” cried Pat, with a very queer intonation, that sounded like a mournful wail struggling with wild laughter. “Is it me? O woro-o-o! Isn’t it to danger yere goin thin! Don’t blame me if I didn’t warrun ye’s. Och, but it’s a black day intirely! Come along, boys,” he said to the others who were left. “Let’s go down out of this to the flure below.” These last words were not heard by the “B. O. W. C.,” who were by this time in the attic, peering through the gloom, and waiting for a recurrence of the sound. They listened for a long time, but they heard no noise at all. No shrieks, no knocks whatever were heard. At length they began to go about. They walked first towards that end of the attic where Pat’s room was, and the only noise they heard was the heavy footsteps of Pat as he ascended the stairs and entered his room. “It’s my firm belief,” said Bart, “that Pat is at the bottom of all this humbug. Of course we won’t find anything. There won’t be so much as a knock, let alone a howl.”