You bring 'em up one at
a time, Slim, and" (to me) "you put your sun-hand out on the table."

(_I_: "Sun-hand?"

_Wag_: "Yes, sun-hand; don't you know?" He held up his right hand, then
his left: "Sun-hand, Moon-hand, Day-hand, Night-hand, Star-hand,
Cloud-hand, and so on."

_I_: "Thank you.")

This was done, and meanwhile Slim formed the troop into a queue and
beckoned them up one by one. Wag stood on a book on the right and
proclaimed the name of each. First he had made me arrange my right hand
edgeways on the table, with the forefinger out. Then "Gold!" said Wag.
Gold stepped forward and made a lovely bow, which I returned with an
inclination of my head, then took as much of my forefinger top joint in
his right hand as he could manage, bent over it and shook it or tried
to, and then took up a position on the left and watched the next comer.
The ceremony was the same for everyone, but not all the bows were
equally elegant; some of the boys were jocular, and shook my finger with
both hands and a great display of effort. These were frowned upon by
Wag. The names (I need not set them all down now) were all of the same
kind as you have heard; there was Red, Wise, Dart, Sprat, and so on.
After Wisp, who came last and was rather humble, Wag called out Slim,
and, after him, descended and presented himself in the same form.

"And now," he said, "perhaps you'll tell us _your_ name."

I did so (one is always a little shamefaced about it, I don't know why)
in full. He whistled.

"Too much," he said; "what's the easiest you can do?"

After some thought I said, "What about M or N?"

"Much better! If M's all right for you, it'll do for us." So M was
agreed upon.

I was still rather afraid that the rank and file had been passing a dull
evening and would not come again, and I tried to express as much to
them. But they said:

"Dull? Oh no, M; why we've found out all sorts of things!"

"Really? What sort of things?"

"Well, inside the wall in that corner there's the biggest spider I've
ever seen, for one thing."

"Good gracious!" I said. "I hate 'em. I hope it can't get out?"

"It would have to-night if we hadn't stopped up the hole. Something's
been helping it to gnaw through."

"Has it?" said Wag. "My word! that looks bad. What was it made the
hole?"

Some called out, "A bat," and some "A rat."

"It doesn't matter much for that," said Slim, "so long as it's safe now.
Where is it?"

"Gone down to the bottom a