Before I could realize it and release my hold, the ladder had dropped far enough to throw me off my balance. The problem was whether to let go and risk dashing down sixty feet, or to keep hold and run the very promising chance of a slow and chilly ducking.
I took the latter alternative, threw myself upon the ladder, and clung there, gasping with astonishment at the suddenness of the thing.
“Well, Hawkins?” I said, getting breath as my head sank below the level of the beautiful earth.
“Well, Griggs,” said the inventor defiantly, from the second rung below, “the gear must have slipped—that's all.”
“Isn't it lucky that this is a tiled well?”
“What do you mean?”
“Why,” I said, “a tiled well is absolutely safe, you see. Nothing can happen in a tiled well, Hawkins.”
“Now, don't stand there grinding out your cheap wit, Griggs,” snapped Hawkins. “How the dickens are we going to escape being soaked?”
Down, down, down, down, went the ladder.
“Well,” I said, thoughtfully, “the bottom usually falls out of your schemes, Hawkins. If the bottom will only fall out of the water department of your pumpless pump within the next half-minute, all will be lovely.”