them out of the little chamber, instead of lifting them; after which
they got on better, and had soon piled a good heap against the wall
outside. After they had had their tea, they set to work again, and
worked till the twilight grew dark about them--by which time they had
got the heap down to what seemed the original level of the floor. Still
there were stones below, but what with fatigue and darkness, they were
now compelled to stop, and Sandy went home, after promising to come as
early as he could in the morning and call Willie, who was to leave the
end of a string hanging out of the staircase window, whose other end
should pass through the keyhole of his door and be tied to his wrist. He
seemed to have hardly been in bed an hour, when he woke with his arm at
full length, and the pulling going on as if it would pull him out of
bed. He tugged again in reply, and jumped out.

It was a lovely summer morning--the sun a few yards up the sky; the
grass glittering with dew; the birds singing as if they were singing
their first and would sing their last; the whole air, even in his little
room, filled with a cool odour as of blessed thoughts, and just warm
enough to let him know that the noontide would be hot. And there was
Sandy waiting in the street to help him dig for the treasure! In a
few minutes he had opened the street door and admitted him. They went
straight to the scene of their labour.

Having got out a few more stones, they began to fancy they heard a
curious sound, which they agreed was more like that of running water
than anything else they could think of. Now, except a well in the
street, just before the cottage, there was no water they knew of much
nearer than the river, and they wondered a good deal.

At length Sandy's pickaxe got hold of a stone which he could not move,