Cautiously she went down the great hole. Her foot touched Timmy. He had fallen on a collection of broken iron bars, which, caught in part of the old iron ladder, stuck out from it, and made a rough landing-place for the dog to fall on.
‘Oh, Timmy,’ said George, horrified. ‘However am I going to get you out of here? This hole goes right down into the tunnel.’
She couldn’t possibly pull Timmy up the hole. It was equally impossible to get him down. He could never climb down the iron ladder, especially as it had so many rungs missing.
George was in despair. ‘Oh, Timmy! Why did I lose my temper and walk out on the others to do some exploring all by myself? Don’t fall, Timmy. You’ll break your legs if you do.’
Timmy had no intention of falling. He was frightened, but so far his curious landing-place felt firm. He kept quite still.
‘Listen, Tim,’ said George, at last. ‘The only thing I can think of is to climb down round it somehow and see how far it is to the tunnel itself. There might even be someone there to help! No, that’s silly. There can’t be. But I might find an old rope – anything – that I could use to help you down with. Oh, dear, what a horrible nightmare!’
George gave Timmy a reassuring pat, and then began to feel about for the iron rungs with her feet. Further down they were all there, and it was easy to climb lower and lower. She was soon down in the tunnel itself. She had her torch with her and switched it on. Then she nearly gave a scream of horror.
Just near to her was a silent train! She could almost touch the engine. Was it – could it be – the spook-train itself? George stared at it, breathing fast.
It looked very, very old and out-of-date. It was smaller than the trains she was used to – the engine was smaller and so were the trucks. The funnel was longer and the wheels were different from those of ordinary trains. George stared at the silent train by the light of her torch, her mind in a muddle. She really didn’t know what to think!
It must be the spook-train! It had come from this tunnel the night before, and had gone back again – and it hadn’t run all the way through to Kilty’s Yard, because Julian had watched for it, and it hadn’t come out there. No – it had run here, to the middle of the dark tunnel, and there it stood, waiting for night so that it might run again.
George shivered. The train belonged to years and years ago! Who drove it at night? Did anybody? Or did it run along without a driver, remembering its old days and old ways? No, that was silly. Trains didn’t think or remember. George shook herself and remembered Timmy.
And just at that very moment, poor Timmy lost his foot-hold on the iron bars, and fell! He had stretched out to listen for George, his foot had slipped-and now he was hurtling down the vent! He gave a mournful howl.
He struck against part of the ladder and that stopped his headlong fall for a moment. But down he went again, scrabbling as he fell, trying to get hold of something to save himself.
George heard him howl and knew he was falling. She was so horror-stricken that she simply couldn’t move. She stood there at the bottom of the vent like a statue, not even breathing.
Timmy fell with a thump beside her, and a groan was jerked out of him. In a trice George was down by him on her knees. ‘Timmy! Are you hurt? Are you alive? Oh, Timmy, say something!’
‘Woof,’ said Timmy, and got up rather unsteadily on his four legs. He had fallen on a pile of the softest soot! The smoke of many, many years had sooted the walls of the vent, and the weather had sent it down to the bottom, until quite a pile had collected at one side. Timmy had fallen plump in the middle of it, and almost buried himself. He shook himself violently, and soot flew out all over George.
She didn’t know or care. She hugged him, and her face and clothes grew as black as soot! She felt about and found the soft pile that had saved Timmy from being hurt.
‘It’s soot! I came down the other side of the vent, so I didn’t know the soot was there. Oh, Timmy, what a bit of luck for you! I thought you’d be killed – or at least badly hurt,’ said George.
He licked her sooty nose and didn’t like the taste of it.
George stood up. She didn’t like the idea of climbing up that horrid vent again – and, anyway, Timmy couldn’t. The only thing to do was to walk out of the tunnel. She wouldn’t have fancied walking through the tunnel before, in case she met the spook-train-but here it was, close beside her, and she had been so concerned about Timmy that she had quite forgotten it.
Timmy went over to the engine and smelt the wheels. Then he jumped up into the cab. Somehow the sight of Timmy doing that took away all George’s fear. If Timmy could jump up into the spook-train, there couldn’t be much for her to be afraid of!
She decided to examine the trucks. There were four of them, all covered trucks. Shining her torch, she climbed up into one of them, pulling Timmy up behind her. She expected to find it quite empty, unloaded many, many years ago by long-forgotten rail way men.
But it was loaded with boxes! George was surprised. Why did a spook-train run about with boxes in it? She shone her torch on to one – and then quickly switched it out!
She had heard a noise in the tunnel. She crouched down in the truck, put her hand on Timmy’s collar, and listened. Timmy listened, too, the hackles rising on his neck.
It was a clanging noise. Then there came a bang.
Then a light shone out, and the tunnel was suddenly as bright as day!
The light came from a great lamp in the side of the tunnel. George peeped cautiously out through a crack in the truck. She saw that this place must be where the tunnel forked. One fork went on to Kilty’s Yard – but surely the other fork was supposed to be bricked up? George followed the lines with her eyes. One set went on down the tunnel to Kilty’s Yard, the other set ran straight into a great wall, which was built across the second tunnel, that once led to Roker’s Yard.
‘Yes – it is bricked up, just as the old porter told Julian,’ said George to herself. And then she stared in the greatest amazement, clutching the side of the truck, hardly believing her eyes.
Part of the wall was opening before her! Before her very eyes, a great mass of it slid back in the centre of the wall – back and back – until a strange-shaped opening, about the size of the train itself, showed in the thick wall. George gasped. Whatever could be happening?
A man came through the opening. George felt sure she had seen him before somewhere. He came up to the engine of the train and swung himself into the cab.
There were all sorts of sounds then from the cab. What was the man doing? Starting the fire to run the train? George did not dare to try and see. She was trembling now, and Timmy pressed himself against her to comfort her.
Then came another set of noises – steam noises. The man must be going to start the engine moving. Smoke came from the funnel. More noises, and some clanks and clangs.
It suddenly occurred to George that the man might be going to take the train through that little opening in
the bricked-up wall. Then-supposing he shut the wall up again – George would be a prisoner! She would be in the truck, hidden behind that wall, and the wall would be closed so that she couldn’t escape.
‘I must get out before it’s too late,’ thought George, in a panic. ‘I only hope the man doesn’t see me!’
But just as she was about to try and get out, the engine gave a loud ‘choo-choo’, and began to move backwards! It ran down the lines a little way, then forward again, and this time its wheels were on the set of lines that led to the second tunnel, where the small opening now showed so clearly in the wall.
George didn’t dare to get out of the moving train. So there she crouched as the engine steamed quickly to the hole in the wall that stretched right across the other tunnel. That hole just fitted it! It must have been made for it, thought George, as the train moved through it.