“We want the nerviest, bravest kids you’ve got in the building,” said a member of the party to the superintendent. “Give us some small ones, who are not afraid.”
The boys arrived. One by one they crept under the house; one by one they looked into the blackness of the hole, and one by one they drew back again. Their eyes glared and they soon became members of the back row of spectators.
Then Henry Matthews came up. He rode into the edge of the crowd on his bicycle, upon which he carried clothes for a tailor, to support his widowed mother.
“What’s the matter?” he inquired meekly. Some one broke the uncanny quietness for a moment and told him.
“Here’s another kid; try him,” whispered a man to the would-be rescuers who had grown despondent. Henry walked forward. They told him what it meant to go headfirst for perhaps twenty or thirty feet downward.
“Let me down,” said the frail boy quietly.
His feet were securely tied with a heavy rope. An electric light with an extension cord was placed in his hand. The boy gazed slowly about the peering faces and shoved his pale face into the blackness. Down he went, inch by inch, and then foot by foot. The rope disappeared, behind him for one yard, two yards, then[{64}] three, four, five, and six yards. He was still going down, and the light had disappeared in the blackness. The rope must have gone forty feet, thought the men at the other end of the line. Then:
“Pull,” came the faint command from down in the ground. The men at the other end smiled with eagerness as they carefully drew on the line. Then they looked at each other in excited expectation, for the load on the rope was heavier than when Harry descended.
Ten feet of the rope had been pulled to the surface, when the men’s faces changed. Their eyes again filled with fright. Quickly they drew on the line, and soon Henry, his body covered with mud, sticks, and rubbish, appeared alone. They gave him water, fanned him for a second, and his pale face began to show faint color again. Then he spoke.
“I pulled him about ten feet,” he panted, “but his hands—his hands—were so slick—the mud came off and he dropped back. He was on some sticks—sticks caught in the well—when I found him—I’m afraid he fell back through them. If he did, we can’t get him.”