As far as I could judge in the darkness, the well must have been fully eighty feet or so deep, and after I had been flung headlong down it the wooden trap-door had been re-closed. It was through the chink between the two flaps that I could see the blessed light of day.
I shouted again, yelling with all my might: "Help! Help!" in the hope that somebody in the vicinity might hear me and investigate.
I was struggling in order to shift into a more comfortable position, and in doing so my feet sank deeper into the mud at the bottom of the well—the accumulation of many years, no doubt.
Two perils faced me—starvation, or the rising of the water: for if it should rain above, the water percolating through the earth would cause it to rise in the well and overwhelm me. By the dampness of the wall I could feel that it was not long since the water was much higher than my head, as I now stood upright.
Would assistance come?
My heart sank within me when I thought of the possibility that I had been precipitated into the well in the garden of Melbourne House, in which case I could certainly not hope for succour.
Again I put out my hands, frantically groping about me, when something I touched in the darkness caused me to withdraw my hand with a start.
Cautiously I felt again. My eager fingers touched it, for it seemed to be floating on the surface of the water. It was cold, round, and long—the body of a snake!
I drew my hand away. Its contact thrilled me.
The cobra had been killed and flung in after me! In that case the precious trio had, without a doubt, fled.