Somewhat to his astonishment, for the thought of death itself had been in his mind as he hurtled downward, Roy found that he was unhurt. But his present position was by no means one to invite congratulations. At the bottom of an old well in the midst of lonely fields he might stay a long time before rescue would arrive.
And in the meantime,—but Roy bravely put such thoughts resolutely out of his head, and began to feel about him to see if it was not possible to find some rough places in the sides of the excavation by which he might clamber to the surface. But his fingers only encountered stonework set far too smoothly to be of any service to him.
Then he suddenly noticed what he had not observed before, and that was that a rope depended from above, trailing its end down into the water. It was too thin to bear his weight, but the boy thought he could utilize it to keep himself above the surface without effort.
Tying a loop knot in it he thrust an arm through the noose and found that he could sustain himself very comfortably. Then he began to shout. Loudly at first—and then more feebly as his voice grew tired. But no answering sound came back to him.
For the first time since he had found himself in his predicament cold fear clutched at the young aviator’s heart.
What if nobody heard him and he was compelled to remain at the bottom of the old well?
As this thought shot through his mind Roy noticed, too, that a deadly chill was beginning to creep up his limbs. He shivered waist deep in the chilly water as if he had an ague.
CHAPTER XVII.
A COWARD AND HIS WAYS.