Page:Ballinger Price--Fortune of the Indies.djvu/214

 Mark reached up, and Alan put into his hand crumbling slivers of rotten wood.

A little at a time the hole grew larger.

"There's a whole board I can wiggle loose, if I keep at it," Alan explained. "Can you hang on any longer! By jingo! it goes right out-of-doors."

Indeed, a star looked strangely in at the ragged opening from a small space of distant sky.

Mark rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand.

"Skip down for a minute," he said, "before I'm completely finished."

Alan descended, and they both stood leaning against the wall, looking up at the hole that was not yet large enough to help them.

"It all depends on whether or not I can get that board away," Alan said. "I don't know how far it keeps on being rotten." "Have another go at it." Mark commanded. "I'm ready, if you are. Up!"

He stood swaying to his balance, and Alan caught again at the crumbling beams. He tugged at the edges of the hole, and something gave all at once with a muffled, crunching noise.