I don't know how long I waited—perhaps another hour—when I thought I would try again. Therefore I recommenced my shouts for assistance, yelling frantically towards the high-up opening.
Suddenly the streak of light became obscured, and dust and gravel fell upon me, the latter striking my head with great force from such a height.
I heard a noise above—a footstep upon the wooden flap of the well. My heart gave a bound.
"Help!" I yelled. "Open the well! I'm down here—dying. Save me! Fetch assistance!"
The feet above moved, and a moment later I saw above me a round disc of daylight and a head—a girl's head—silhouetted within it.
"Who's there?" she asked in a timid, half-frightened voice.
"It's me!" I cried. "Get me out of this! I'm dying. Get me a rope or something, quickly!"
"Who are you?" asked the girl, still frightened at her discovery.
"I'm a man who's been thrown down here, and I can't get out. Get somebody to help me, I beg of you!"
"All right!" she replied. "There's some men, shooting here. I'll run and tell them."