“I don’t know. Nothing,” replied Will. “I could not reach the rope.”
“Ah! well, you’ve got it now,” said Josh gruffly; “and the sooner we get out of this the better.”
“Get out of it?” said Will hoarsely.
“Get out of it! To be sure. You didn’t mean to come here to live, did you?”
“No,” said Will, “but—”
He paused, for his nervous feeling was returning, and shame kept him from saying that he was afraid.
He might have spoken out frankly, though, for Josh Helston, blunt of perception as he was over many things, saw through him now, and in a gruff voice he said:
“Well, if anybody had told me that you could have got yourself skeered like this, Master Will, I should have told him he was a fool. But there, you couldn’t help it, I s’pose. It was that diving as upset you, lad.”
“Yes, yes; perhaps it was,” cried Will, eagerly grasping at the excuse. “I’m not myself, Josh, just now.”
Josh began to whistle a dreary old minor tune as they stood there in the dark, to the accompaniment of the dripping water, and for some few minutes no word was spoken.