"Have we time? It is already half-past four."
"I don't want to be home before five," Roger answered, "and I can run home in quarter of an hour; and as for you—well, I suppose it doesn't matter to five minutes or so what time you get back, does it?"
Edgar admitted that it did not; and, accordingly, the two boys went on, passed the cottages, and entered the clay works. Roger was particularly anxious to see the pit from whence the black clay was procured, and Edgar felt a sense of importance at being able to tell him all about it. Several men were at work in the shaft, but they were so busily employed that for some time they did not notice the two boys standing on the edge of the pit watching them; at last, however, one chanced to glance up, and immediately shouted a warning to be careful.
"All right," Roger replied, moving back at once. "We'd better not go too close, Edgar. Come away."
There had been heavy rain during the night, consequently the ground was very cloggy, and as Roger looked back to ascertain if his cousin was coming, he was horrified to see Edgar, who had turned around to follow him, slip, and with a piercing yell of terror fall backwards into the mouth of the pit.
In a moment the scene was one of the greatest confusion, for the accident had been witnessed by several men engaged in loading carts with clay, and they one and all rushed to the spot where the unfortunate boy had fallen, shouting questions to those below. For a minute Roger was too shocked to move, and when he would have joined the group at the edge of the shaft, someone caught him by the arm and stopped him.
"Let me go to him!" Roger implored. "Oh, poor, poor Edgar! He must have been killed. Oh, please, let me go to him!"
"No, sir," replied a familiar voice, and, looking quickly at his captor, the little boy recognised Caleb Glubb. "You wait here with me till we hear more about what's happened. My mate's gone to find out if your cousin's much injured, or—" The man paused with a shudder. "You can't do any good if I let you go," he added, "you'd better wait, it won't be for long."
Roger's teeth chattered with fright, and his legs trembled so much that he could scarcely stand, but he tried to restrain his emotion, whilst a wild prayer of agony to God rose from his heart. Oh, how awful if Edgar should have been killed! Who would tell the harrowing news to Aunt Janie and Uncle John? So engrossed was he in contemplating the horrors of what might be that he never noticed the arrival of his uncle's dog-cart, nor did he see his uncle hurry past him to the mouth of the pit; but, presently, he became aware that Caleb Glubb was speaking again.
"They've brought him up, Master Roger," Caleb said. "He's unconscious, but they say he isn't dead; maybe, after all, he's not very badly hurt."