Really, the more he looked the situation in the face the more it appalled him. Try as he might he could think of no new plan that gave the slightest promise of results. If he kept on endeavoring to climb that slippery wall until he fell utterly exhausted, what would that avail him? Better to go slow and reserve at least a small portion of his energies, in case, later on, he did think up some scheme that had a faint show of success.
How about shouting for help? Colon had tried that game, and it had not worked, simply because there happened to be no one near the old mill at the time. Later on, however, his simple groans and grunts attracted the attention of the prowling Gabe, and led to what would have been his rescue, even had not Fred and the others arrived on the scene.
But here, in this quarry where no one ever came, so far as he knew, what chance was there of his shouts being heard? Fred thought about one in a thousand. Still, there was no choice for him. And perhaps that one little chance might pan out; he had known of stranger things happening, in his own experience.
So he lifted up his voice and called:
"Help! help! Oh! help!"
It was a cry that must thrill anyone who heard it, welling up out of that deep pit. Waiting a minute or more, Fred started in again, and shouted louder than ever.
Listening, he could hear the afternoon breeze sighing among the branches of the trees that grew almost over the gap in the quarry. Even that died out, as if it meant to pass with the day, which must now be very near its close.
It seemed so utterly foolish to waste his breath in this vain calling that Fred changed his plans for a short time, and once more tried to scale the straight wall.
This time he succeeded in making about four feet, and then had a tumble that quite jarred him.
"That ought to let me know, all right, that I'll never make the top in a year of Sundays, as Corney always says," he remarked, rubbing his elbow where he had barked it on a stone, so that it smarted.