“Put your feet on the bucket and hold on, Giraffe,” he told the adventurous one. “When you get down close to the water give one call. To lower a little more give two; and when you’re ready to come up make it three. Understand that?”
“All right, Thad; lower away!”
Bumpus was also peering over the edge into those mysterious depths. The woman was beside him, still wringing her hands in nervous anguish, and repeating that word “Benjy” until it was so impressed on the memory of Bumpus that he could never forget it.
Immediately Giraffe disappeared from view, and all they could hear consisted of the creaking of the windlass, as Thad lowered away, and the hysterical wailing of the woman belonging at the cottage.
A dozen and more times had the handle gone around and Thad began to wonder how deep that well could be. Then suddenly he heard a cry. It welled up from the depths and sounded very weird, but Thad knew this must be the signal he had arranged with Giraffe, to indicate that the latter was close to the water.
Immediately there came two more calls, which meant that Giraffe wished to be lowered a little further; Thad accordingly allowed another turn of the handle, so as to release several more feet of the rope. A single cry announced that this was enough; and then a brief period of great suspense followed.
They heard the dripping of water, accompanied by more or less splashing.
“Oh! I hope he hasn’t fallen in himself!” Bumpus was heard to say, with a long breath, as his overwrought feelings almost overpowered him.
Then came three calls. That was the signal for those above to draw up. Allan was already at Thad’s side, and ready to bend the power of his young muscles to assist in the task, and together they made that windlass creak at a lively rate as they worked.
Bumpus was on his knees now. He acted as though a new fear oppressed his heart. What if the strain proved too great, and the rope parted—Giraffe must be hurled back into the depths, and a tragedy would be presented to them.