“Very likely, indeed, that I should tell her that I had left little Johnny sticking in a tree? I could only hope that he would stick there until I could get back. I returned at full speed from the doctor’s, I can assure you; but when I reached the wood not a trace of the little fellow could I find.”
“O Tom,” exclaimed Minnie, with a look of horror, “such a terrible thought has struck me!”
“I daresay that it has struck me before,” gloomily replied her brother.
“Was it, oh! was it far from the well?”
“If he’s there,” said Tom in a hollow voice, “he’s dead long before now.”
“Did you search there?”
“I looked down, and saw nothing.”
“Looked down! O Tom, this is worse than mockery! If the waters were above him—it is so deep—so dark!—”
“What is to be done?” exclaimed the boy.
“Some one must go down in the bucket. Oh, there is not a moment to be lost!” Minnie would have rushed from the cottage, but her brother held her fast.