"They won't do that. I left my bag of scent on the top. They are sure to notice it."
"And I brought mine down with me," said Nat ruefully. "What an ass I was to get so near an overhanging edge like that!"
They kept up their shouts for perhaps another five minutes and at last were rewarded by hearing the confused sounds of many voices from somewhere above; then quite distinctly came Pam's voice.
"My goodness! I believe they are down the old Saxon well. Hang on to my legs, someone. I don't want to slip over," and a head appeared over the edge, peering cautiously down.
"Coo-ee!" sang Nat, and once again came Pam's voice in accents of alarm and astonishment. "Someone's certainly down here. Who is it?"
"It's us," called Nat. "Monica and I."
"Good gracious!" once more ejaculated Pam. "It's both of them. Whatever are you doing down there?"
"Picking daisies," retorted Nat with pardonable exasperation.
"You aren't hurt, I hope?" Pam inquired anxiously.
"Nothing to speak of, but for goodness' sake hurry up and get us out."