“As soon as you’ve rested, we’ll help you back to our camping place,” announced Dave. “Then we can start up the fire again and you can dry yourself;” for he saw that Shadow was soaking wet from his back down.
“I’m thankful this adventure has ended so well,” was Phil’s comment. “What would we have done if anything had happened to you?”
“As it was, enough did happen,” answered Shadow ruefully. Then, of a sudden, his face broke into a smile. “Say, when I was down there I thought of a dandy story! One day two men went to clean a well——”
This was as far as the former story-teller of Oak Hall got with his narrative. The others gazed at him for a moment in wonder, and then all broke out into a uproarious fit of laughter.
“Can you beat it!” gasped Phil.
“I guess Shadow would tell stories if he was going to his own funeral!” came from Roger.
“You’ve certainly got your nerve with you, Shadow,” announced Dave.
“I suppose you thought of the story while you were tumbling down into the opening,” suggested Ben.
“No, I didn’t think of it just then,” answered the story-teller innocently. “It came to me while I was waiting for you fellows to get the rope.”
“Never mind the story now,” said Dave. “If you are rested, let us get back to the camp and start up that fire. We don’t want you to catch cold.” For on the summit of the mountain there was a keen, cool breeze.