lined with a thick growth of shrubs and birch. Colwyn knelt
down on the edge and peered into the interior of the pit. He tested the
strength of the climbing and creeping plants which twisted in snakelike
growth in the interior. It seemed to him that it would be a
comparatively easy matter to descend into the pit by their support, so
far as they went. But how far did they go?

While he was thus occupied he heard the sound of footsteps crashing
through the undergrowth of the little wood on the other side of the pit.
A moment later a man, carrying a rabbit, and followed by a mongrel dog,
came into view. It was Duney. He stared hard at Colwyn and then advanced
towards him with a grin of recognition.

"Yow be lookin' to see how t'owd ma'aster was hulled dune th' pit?" he
asked.

"I was wondering how far the pit ran straight down," replied Colwyn. "It
seems to take a slight slope a little way down. Does it?"

"I doan't know narthin' about th' pit, and I doan't want to," replied
Mr. Duney, backing away with a slightly pale face. "Doan't yow meddle
wi' un, ma'aster. It's a quare place, thissun."

"Why, what's the matter with it?"

"Did you never hear that th' pit's haunted? Like enough nobody'd tell
yow. Folk hereabowts aren't owerfond of talkin' of th' White Lady of th'
Shrieking Pit, for fear it should bring un bad luck."

"I've been hearing a little about her to-day. Is she any relation of
Black Shuck, the ghost dog you were telling me about?"

"It's no larfin' matter, ma'aster. You moind the day me and Billy
Backlog come and towld yow about us seein' that chap on th' edge of yon
wood that night? Well, just befower we seed un we heerd th' rummiest
kind of noise--summat atween a moan and a shriek, comin' from this 'ere
pit. I reckon, from what's happened to that chap Ronald since, that it
wor the White Lady of th' Pit we heered. It's lucky for us we didn't see
un."

"I remember at the time you mentioned something about it."

"Ay, she be a terr'ble bad sperrit," said Mr. Duney, wagging his head
unctuously. "She comes out of this yare pit wheer t'owd man was chucked,
and wanders about the wood and th' rise, a-yellin' somefin awful. It's
nowt to hear her--we've all heerd her for that matter--but to see her is
to meet a bloody and violent end within the month. That's why they call
this 'ere pit 'the Shrieking Pit.' I'm thinkin' that owd Mr. Glenthorpe,
who was allus fond of walkin' up this way at nights, met her one ni