Just then he slipped ever so little and I could see his knees and feet pressing the weeds between them tight, just as if his legs were a vice. I just couldn’t call and ask him how the land was down there.
Pretty soon he spoke. His voice sounded just the same as usual even though it was a kind of death sentence he was saying.
“It’s straight up and down,” he said.
“How far?” I called. My own voice sounded strange to me.
“’Bout seventy or eighty feet,” he said; “maybe a hundred. I can’t tell exactly.”
Then he seemed to move again but maybe I only thought so because I was so excited.
“Hang on,” I said. That was all I could say.
“I will,” he said. “But so long, if I don’t see you again.”