"She is down there," replied Mary, pointing to the mouth of the pit. "Oh, Bess, I'm afraid she is very much hurt, perhaps dying!"
Elizabeth, with an exclamation of dismay, threw herself down and peered into the hole.
"Tommy! Tommy dear!" she called.
But there was no answer. Elizabeth measured with her eye the depth of the pit; she felt tempted to spring down and see if Tommy were alive or dead.
"Will you stay here while I run back and get the painter?" she asked. At that moment neither of the girls thought of savages: fear for Tommy had banished every other fear.
"It will take so long," murmured Mary. "You would be gone an hour at least, and——"
"I know a way," Elizabeth interrupted; "we'll make a rope of creepers. It won't take us long."
She darted off into the forest. In building the hut she had become expert in selecting strong tendrils for binding their lattice-work, and in a few moments she had cut, among the dense undergrowth, a considerable quantity of tough material with which she hurried back to the pit. The two girls at once set to work with nimble fingers plaiting the tendrils together.
"She must be famished, and dead with thirst," said Mary. "If we could only give her some water."
"There's a little brook not far away," said Elizabeth. "When we have done the rope we'll make a cup of leaves, and I'll fetch some water. Then you must let me down into the pit."