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 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. This 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, at that very moment, poor Timmy lost his foothold 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 the soot! She felt about and found the soft pile that had saved Timmy 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!