"Very well. You've lost your nerve, that's clear. Shy over my boots, will you?"
Sam lifted one and cast it; but he was apparently too much shaken to take good aim. The boot fell into the shaft.
"See now! 'Tis plain!" he said forlornly. "My poor wambling arm! Even as yer boot fell, so——"
"Hush!" cried Dick.
There had been no sound of the boot striking on the bottom. After what seemed a long time—it was in fact no more than two or three seconds—from the depths came rumbling reverberations of a splash. The water must have been nearly two hundred feet below. Both the boys were silent as they thought of the terrible fate Dick would have met with if he had fallen.
"Well, good-bye, Sam!" said Dick at last, rousing himself. "One boot is no good without the other, so you can keep it. I'll come back for you as soon as I can."
"I wish 'ee well, Maister."
He stood near the brink, with a piteous expression upon his rugged face, watching Dick's gradually receding form. When a bend in the passage hid his master and comrade from view, he leant against the wall, and buried his face in his hands.
CHAPTER THE SIXTEENTH
A Packet for Rusco