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"
Give
her
the
sandwiches
,
for
goodness
'
sake
,
and
stop
her
silly
mouth
,
"
said
Peter
,
not
quite
unkindly
.
"
Look
here
,
"
he
added
,
turning
to
Bobbie
,
"
perhaps
we
'd
better
have
one
each
,
too
.
We
may
need
all
our
strength
.
Not
more
than
one
,
though
.
There
's
no
time
.
"
"
What
?
"
asked
Bobbie
,
her
mouth
already
full
,
for
she
was
just
as
hungry
as
Phyllis
.
"
Do
n't
you
see
,
"
replied
Peter
,
impressively
,
"
that
red-jerseyed
hound
has
had
an
accident
--
that
's
what
it
is
.
Perhaps
even
as
we
speak
he
's
lying
with
his
head
on
the
metals
,
an
unresisting
prey
to
any
passing
express
--
"
"
Oh
,
do
n't
try
to
talk
like
a
book
,
"
cried
Bobbie
,
bolting
what
was
left
of
her
sandwich
;
"
come
on
.
Phil
,
keep
close
behind
me
,
and
if
a
train
comes
,
stand
flat
against
the
tunnel
wall
and
hold
your
petticoats
close
to
you
.
"
"
Give
me
one
more
sandwich
,
"
pleaded
Phyllis
,
"
and
I
will
.
"
"
I
'm
going
first
,
"
said
Peter
;
"
it
was
my
idea
,
"
and
he
went
.
Of
course
you
know
what
going
into
a
tunnel
is
like
?
The
engine
gives
a
scream
and
then
suddenly
the
noise
of
the
running
,
rattling
train
changes
and
grows
different
and
much
louder
.
Grown-up
people
pull
up
the
windows
and
hold
them
by
the
strap
.
The
railway
carriage
suddenly
grows
like
night
--
with
lamps
,
of
course
,
unless
you
are
in
a
slow
local
train
,
in
which
case
lamps
are
not
always
provided
.
Then
by
and
by
the
darkness
outside
the
carriage
window
is
touched
by
puffs
of
cloudy
whiteness
,
then
you
see
a
blue
light
on
the
walls
of
the
tunnel
,
then
the
sound
of
the
moving
train
changes
once
more
,
and
you
are
out
in
the
good
open
air
again
,
and
grown-ups
let
the
straps
go
.
The
windows
,
all
dim
with
the
yellow
breath
of
the
tunnel
,
rattle
down
into
their
places
,
and
you
see
once
more
the
dip
and
catch
of
the
telegraph
wires
beside
the
line
,
and
the
straight-cut
hawthorn
hedges
with
the
tiny
baby
trees
growing
up
out
of
them
every
thirty
yards
.
All
this
,
of
course
,
is
what
a
tunnel
means
when
you
are
in
a
train
.
But
everything
is
quite
different
when
you
walk
into
a
tunnel
on
your
own
feet
,
and
tread
on
shifting
,
sliding
stones
and
gravel
on
a
path
that
curves
downwards
from
the
shining
metals
to
the
wall
.
Then
you
see
slimy
,
oozy
trickles
of
water
running
down
the
inside
of
the
tunnel
,
and
you
notice
that
the
bricks
are
not
red
or
brown
,
as
they
are
at
the
tunnel
's
mouth
,
but
dull
,
sticky
,
sickly
green
.
Your
voice
,
when
you
speak
,
is
quite
changed
from
what
it
was
out
in
the
sunshine
,
and
it
is
a
long
time
before
the
tunnel
is
quite
dark
.
