“Let us try this hole,” said Tricksey; for the giant and giantess were sleeping behind them, and they dared not go back.
“All right,” said Bob.
He seldom said anything else than “All right.”
Now this hole was in a mound that came in through the wall of the shed, and went along the floor for some distance. They crawled into it, and found it very dark. But groping their way along, they soon came to a small crack, through which they saw grass, pale in the moonshine. As they crept on, they found the hole began to get wider and lead upwards.
“What is that noise of rushing?” said Buffy-Bob.
“I can’t tell,” replied Tricksey; “for, you see, I don’t know what we are in.”
The fact was, they were creeping along a channel in the heart of a giant tree; and the noise they heard was the noise of the sap rushing along in its wooden pipes. When they laid their ears to the wall, they heard it gurgling along with a pleasant noise.
“It sounds kind and good,” said Tricksey. “It is water running. Now it must be running from somewhere to somewhere. I think we had better go on, and we shall come somewhere.”
It was now rather difficult to go on, for they had to climb as if they were climbing a hill; and now the passage was wide. Nearly worn out, they saw light overhead at last, and creeping through a crack into the open air, found themselves on the fork of a huge tree. A great, broad, uneven space lay around them, out of which spread boughs in every direction, the smallest of them as big as the biggest tree in the country of common people. Overhead were leaves enough to supply all the trees they had ever seen. Not much moonlight could come through, but the leaves would