So they go on; Deputy, as a rear rank one, taking open order, and invading the silence of the hour and place by stoning every wall, post, pillar, and other inanimate object, by the deserted way.
′Is there anything new down in the crypt, Durdles?′ asks John Jasper.
′Anything old, I think you mean,′ growls Durdles. ′It ain′t a spot for novelty.′
′Any new discovery on your part, I meant.′
′There′s a old ′un under the seventh pillar on the left as you go down the broken steps of the little underground chapel as formerly was; I make him out (so fur as I′ve made him out yet) to be one of them old ′uns with a crook. To judge from the size of the passages in the walls, and of the steps and doors, by which they come and went, them crooks must have been a good deal in the way of the old ′uns! Two on ′em meeting promiscuous must have hitched one another by the mitre pretty often, I should say.′
Without any endeavour to correct the literality of this opinion, Jasper surveys his companion—covered from head to foot with old mortar, lime, and stone grit—as though he, Jasper, were getting imbued with a romantic interest in his weird life.
′Yours is a curious existence.′
Without furnishing the least clue to the question, whether he receives this as a compliment or as quite the reverse, Durdles gruffly answers: ′Yours is another.′
′Well! inasmuch as my lot is cast in the same old earthy, chilly, never-changing place, Yes. But there is much more mystery and interest in your connection with the Cathedral than in mine. Indeed, I am beginning to have some idea of asking you to take me on as a sort of student, or free ′prentice, under you, and to let me go about with you sometimes, and see some of these odd nooks in which you pass your days.′
The Stony One replies, in a general way, ′All right. Everybody knows where to find Durdles, when he′s wanted.′ Which, if not strictly true, is approximately so, if taken to express that Durdles may always be found in a state of vagabondage somewhere.
′What I dwell upon most,′ says Jasper, pursuing his subject of romantic interest, ′is the remarkable accuracy with which you would seem to find out where people are buried.—What is the matter? That bundle is in your way; let me hold it.′
Durdles has stopped and backed a little (Deputy, attentive to all his movements, immediately skirmishing into the road), and was looking about for some ledge or corner to place his bundle on, when thus relieved of it.
′Just you give me my hammer out of that,′ says Durdles, ′and I′ll show you.′
Clink, clink. And his hammer is handed him.
′Now, lookee here. You pitch your note, don′t you, Mr. Jasper?′
′Yes.′
′So I sound for mine. I take my hammer, and I tap.′ (Here he strikes the pavement, and the attentive Deputy skirmishes at a rather wider range, as supposing that his head may be in requisition.) ′I tap, tap, tap. Solid! I go on tapping. Solid still! Tap again. Holloa! Hollow! Tap again, persevering. Solid in hollow! Tap, tap, tap, to try it better.
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