"Can you see him?" asked Bristles, very white in the face, but bent on sticking it out as long as his chum did.
"Sorry to say I can't," replied the other, calmly now, and with an air of business about him that inspired Bristles to conquer his own weakness. "My eyes have been so used to the sun that it looks as black as a pocket down in this well. But perhaps he might answer a call."
"Give the poor fellow a hail, then, Fred, please. Just think how he must have suffered, hollering all this time, with nobody to help him out," and Bristles, who really had a very tender heart himself, leaned over the curbing of the well.
"Be careful not to push one of these big stones in, or you'll finish the poor fellow," warned Fred; and then bending low he called out very loudly: "Hello! down there! We want to help you get out. Are you badly hurt?"
"Oh! I don't know, but I'm so cold. Please hurry, or I'll die!" came in a faint voice from far below.
"Good gracious!" gasped Bristles; "did you hear that, Fred?"
"I certainly did," replied the other.
"But—the voice; it was a woman's or a girl's!" continued the amazed Bristles.
"Just what I thought; and that makes it all the more necessary that something be done in a hurry to get her out. That rope looks pretty sound; doesn't it, Bristles?"
"What do you mean to do now, Fred; go down there?" and the boy shuddered as he looked at the gaping hole.