all such things.

"I've never seen the ghost of one," said Uncle George, with a laugh. "Here,
Phil! Take this!" and he handed me from his pocket an old flint-lock
pistol, of which I knew he had a pair. "You won't need it, but it makes one
feel bolder to carry it. If you see any ghosts, blaze away at them, and if
you hit them we'll nail their bodies up outside to scare away the rest."

Then, still laughing, to cheer us, I think, they bade us good-bye and went
off down the tunnel.

Carette was already spreading out the hay, which Uncle George and my
grandfather had got through the narrow ways with difficulty. Their voices
died away and we were alone, and I was so heavy that, from sitting on the
hay, I rolled over on it, and was asleep before I lay flat.




CHAPTER XXXIII

HOW LOVE COULD SEE IN THE DARK


Carette says I slept through three days and nights, but that is only one of
her little humours. When I woke, however, I was in infinitely better case
than before, and as she herself was fast asleep she may have been so all
the time.

It was quite dark. The candle had either burned out or she had extinguished