“Harry’s right,” said Charley. “Go and get the lantern out of my canoe, won’t you, Tom? I’ve got matches in my pocket.”
When the lantern was lit a careful search was made all over the court-yard. Harry was greatly frightened, for he was afraid that Joe might have been accidentally shot while the boys were shooting at the wild-cat, and he remembered that in his excitement he had fired his pistol in a very reckless way. It was horrible to think that he might have shot poor Joe; worse, even, than thinking that the wild-cat might have seized him.
The court-yard had been thoroughly searched without finding the least trace of Joe, and the boys were becoming more and more alarmed, when Charley, whose ears were particularly sharp, cried, “Hush! I hear something.” They all listened intently, and heard a voice faintly calling “Help!” They knew at once that it was Joe’s voice, but they could not imagine where he was. They shouted in reply to him, and Charley, seizing the lantern, carefully pushed aside the tall weeds and presently found himself at the mouth of a well.
“Are you there, Joe?” he cried, lying down on the ground, with his head over the mouth of the well.
“I believe I am,” replied Joe. “I’m ready to come out, though, if you fellows will help me.”
The boys gave a great shout of triumph.
“Are you hurt?” asked Charley, eagerly.
“I don’t think I am; but I think somebody will be if I have to stay here much longer.”
It was evident that Joe was not seriously hurt, although he had fallen into the well while rushing recklessly after the wild-cat. Tom and Harry ran to the canoes and returned with all four of the canoe-painters. Tying one of them to the lantern, Charley lowered it down, and was able to get a glimpse of Joe. The well was about twenty feet deep, and perfectly dry, and Joe was standing, with his hands in his pockets, leaning against the side of the well, and apparently entirely unhurt, in spite of his fall.