Yet the monk smiled again and went on without faltering, though our way was towards it.
Then we turned under an arch into a second court, and the din was less plain as we did so.

There was the well of the monastery, and without a word the sacristan hove the heavy chest from his shoulders into its black depths, and the splash and bubble of its falling came up to us.
"That is safe," said the prior; "now for ourselves." He hooked the oaken bucket to its rope and let it down to its full length in the well, and at once the sacristan swung himself on it, slid down, and was gone.

Then the rope swayed to one side, and stayed there, shaking gently in a minute or so.
The prior drew it up, and maybe fifteen feet from the top, there was a bundle tied--a rope ladder on which were iron hooks.

These he fastened to the edge of the oaken platform that covered the well mouth, and let the other end fall down the well.

Then he bade me go down to the sacristan.
That was easy to me, and I went, yet I feared for him who stood listening to the splintering of the nearer gate, for it would soon fall surely.