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It was now Young Jerry's turn to approach the gate: which he did,

holding his breath. Crouching down again in a corner there, and

looking in, he made out the three fishermen creeping through some

rank grass! and all the gravestones in the churchyard--it was a

large churchyard that they were in--looking on like ghosts in

white, while the church tower itself looked on like the ghost of

a monstrous giant. They did not creep far, before they stopped

and stood upright. And then they began to fish.

They fished with a spade, at first. Presently the honoured parent

appeared to be adjusting some instrument like a great corkscrew.

Whatever tools they worked with, they worked hard, until the

awful striking of the church clock so terrified Young Jerry, that

he made off, with his hair as stiff as his father's.