irst, the proper way, and dig with his
hands as we had done, and though Oswald was angry at the time, for he
hates snivellers, yet afterwards he owned that perhaps it was just
as well. You should never be afraid to own that perhaps you were
mistaken--but it is cowardly to do it unless you are quite sure you are
in the wrong.

'Let me go in feet first,' said Albert-next-door. 'I'll dig with my
boots--I will truly, honour bright.'

So we let him get in feet first--and he did it very slowly and at last
he was in, and only his head sticking out into the hole; and all the
rest of him in the tunnel.

'Now dig with your boots,' said Oswald; 'and, Alice, do catch hold of
Pincher, he'll be digging again in another minute, and perhaps it would
be uncomfortable for Albert if Pincher threw the mould into his eyes.'

You should always try to think of these little things. Thinking of other
people's comfort makes them like you. Alice held Pincher, and we all
shouted, 'Kick! dig with your feet, for all you're worth!'

So Albert-next-door began to dig with his feet, and we stood on the
ground over him, waiting--and all in a minute the ground gave way, and
we tumbled together in a heap: and when we got up there was a little
shallow hollow where we had been standing, and Albert-next-door was
underneath, stuck quite fast, because the roof of the tunnel had tumbled
in on him. He is a horribly unlucky boy to have anything to do with.

It was dreadful the way he cried and screamed, though he had to own it
didn't hurt, only it was rather heavy and he couldn't move his legs. We
would have dug him out all right enough, in time, but he screamed so we
were afraid the police would come, so Dicky climbed over the wall, to
tell the cook there to tell Albert-next-door's uncle he had been buried
by mistake, and to come and help dig him out.

Dicky was a long time gone. We wondered what had become of him, and all
the while the screaming went on and on, for we had taken the loose earth
off Albert's face so that he could scream quite easily and comfortably.

Presently Dicky came back and Albert-next-door's uncle came with him. He
has very long legs, and his hair is light and his face is brown. He has
been to sea, but now he writes books. I like him.

He told his nephew to stow it, so Albert did, and then he asked him if
he was hurt--and Albert had to say he wasn't, for though he is a coward,
and very unlucky, he is not a liar like some boys are.