ss 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.

As it was, Arthur opened his eyes lazily and yawned--

"All serene. Why, hullo, I say! Is that you, Dig, old man?"

"Yes, rather! Sit steady; we've got a ladder and ropes, and Marky's
just down there. How are you?"

Arthur rubbed his eyes, and his teeth chattered.

"Pretty cold and stiff, old man. How jolly of you to come! You see,
the mortar or something slipped, and I couldn't get up or down. I
yelled, but you'd gone. At last I managed to get up again, and there
I've stuck. How are we going down now?"

"They've got the ladder up just below us, if you can manage to get down
so far."

Arthur began to move his stiff limbs one by one, by way of judging what
he could do.

Dig, meanwhile, shouted down that he was safe up, and Arthur was all
right.

"Not time for another try at the owls," said the latter, getting one
foot up and trying to rise.

"Owls be hanged," said Dig, helping his friend gingerly to his feet.

"I feel like a poker," said Arthur. "Shouldn't care to run a mile just
now."

"Nobody wants you to. What you've got to do is to dig hold of the ivy
with your hands and let yourself down. I'll go first and take care of
your feet."

"Awfully brickish of you, Dig," said Arthur. "I'm sorry I'm such a
lout. I feel as if my joints want oiling."

"Come on," said Dig.

The descent was slow, and for poor Arthur painful; but, thanks to the
ivy and Dig's steady steering, it was in due time accomplished safely,
and the top of the ladder reached.

"Now, then, one at a time," shouted the farmer.

"He ca