“Pooh! girl! coward!” retorted thankless Tom, pointing the finger of scorn at his sister. “Who’s afraid of what? Stand back, small boys, I’m going in,” and Tom began to divest himself of his jacket.
“You’ll poison the water,” suggested Archie.
“It will be so cold,” moaned Bob. But nobody took any notice of Bob; he was treated with great contempt, and much hustled, as the author of the mischief. All felt that if Tom came to grief, Bob would be answerable.
“I’ll scream for a hundred years without stopping, Tom,” cried Bess wildly. “You shan’t go down, you shan’t; I’ll call some one. Murray! Peter! Maggie! O-o-o-o-o-o-o-me! O-o-o-oh, o-o-o-o-o-me!”
“Stop screaming, and help,” said Tom, who had his shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbow, and his pantaloons to his knee—why, no one but Tom could tell. “Now do you three hold on tight to this bucket; don’t let go for a moment; pull away as hard as you can when I tell you to. Now for it!”
And without more ado, Tom clung to the other rope with his hands, and twisted his feet around the bucket handle.
“Hold on tight, and let me down easy,” said Tom, and the three children clung desperately to their rope, and lowered him little by little. Long experience in rescuing cats from a watery grave in the well had taught the children how to manage the ropes and buckets; but they had not calculated on the fact that Tom would be heavier than a cat; and it was with red faces and straining muscles that they dragged away on their rope. However, they were able to keep Tom steady, and he, clinging with one hand to his rope, and pushing himself away from the sides of the well with the other, made his dangerous descent as successfully as though his coadjutors had been gifted with Samson’s strength. A sudden splash and shiver told them he had reached the water, and a shout of triumph declared that the teapot was rescued.
As Tom shouted, all three children let go the rope and rushed to the side of the well to look at the victorious hero.
It was a most fortunate circumstance that the water in the well was low, and that Tom, plunged suddenly to the bottom by this unexpected movement, was able, after much scrambling, to stand upright with his head out of water; otherwise the earthly career of Thomas Bradley would have been brought to a sudden and untimely end.
As it was, he stood in the cold water up to his shoulders, clinging still to the rope, holding the teapot with one hand, and wildly vociferating to his admiring audience whose heads hung over the well-curb, and their faces, as seen in this position by Tom, looked like those of grinning fiends.