He stepped into the woodshed and came back in a minute with a coil of new clothes line. This he doubled and then tied it around his waist, asking me to hold on to the end of it.
The lantern he fastened to the other rope’s end.
“Keep yourself braced,” said he. “I wont fall, for I’ve often been down there to clean it, but if I do, you can pull me up.”
“Try not to go, James,” said I, looking at his two hundred pounds, and at the slender rope.
We wrenched off the case of the pump, and stepping down he was lost to sight almost immediately.
I lowered the lantern and he made his way to the water.
“Do you suppose the cat slipped?” I asked Minerva.
“I reckon she was thirsty.”
“Well, she won’t be thirsty when she comes out. What do you find, James?”
“A scrubbing brush.”