"Get a club, Curly," commanded Ruth. "We'll be ready, then, for man or beast."
This order gave Curly confidence, and made him pluck up his own waning courage. These girls depended upon him, and he was not the boy to back down before even a ghostly Unknown.
He found a club and went side by side with Ruth into the mill. The sound that had disturbed them was repeated. Ruth was sure, now, that it was somebody sobbing.
"Amy! Amy Gregg!" she called again.
"Pshaw!" murmured Ann. "It isn't Amy. She'd have been out of here in a hurry when we shouted for her before."
Ruth was not so sure of that. They came to a break in the flooring. Once there had been steps here leading down into the cellar of the mill, but the steps had rotted away.
"Amy!" called Ruth again. She knelt and held the lantern as far down the well as she could reach. The sound of sobbing had ceased.
"Amy, dear!" cried Ruth. "It's Ruth and Ann, And Curly is with us. Do answer if you hear me!"
There was a murmur from below. Ann cried out in alarm, but Curly exclaimed: "I believe that's Amy, Ruth! She must be hurt—the silly thing. She's tumbled down this old well."
"How will we get to her?" cried Ruth. "Amy! how did you get down there? Are you hurt, Amy?"