r came to Reed as
he halloed futilely.

When one o'clock came he was hoarse from yelling and sick with fear at
his predicament. His imagination painted gruesome pictures as he
sweated. He saw himself weak and emaciated, dying slowly of starvation,
collapsing, finally to lie undiscovered for days, weeks maybe. The
memory of a field mouse that had fallen into a pit haunted him, its
futile, frantic struggles to scale the steep sides, and he remembered
that when he had passed that way again he had looked and found it dead
in the bottom. He wished now that he had rescued it.

His suffering would be worse than that of the field mouse, for he had
the intelligence to know that it was useless to struggle, that there was
no hope for him unless someone came to his assistance. And merciful
heavens, how hungry he was at only an hour past his dinner time; what
would his sensations be at an hour past his supper time or at one
o'clock to-morrow? He made a sound like someone groaning in a rain
barrel as he thought of the ham and cabbage boiling dry in the cabin.

It made the back of his neck ache to watch the opening of his prison and
the patch of blue sky, from which he prayed, vaguely, that a rope ladder
might descend to rescue him. So he sat down finally with his back
against the side of the well, his knees to his chin, and his head bowed,
to await the inevitable.

When three o'clock came he could no longer doubt but that some accident
had befallen Wallie. He had given up hope and endeavoured to resign
himself to the fate awaiting him. Remorse mingled with the pangs of
hunger and the cold fear of dying which was upon him. He wondered if
this torturing end was a judgment sent upon him. He could scarcely doubt
it.

But if by some miracle he got out--if the Lord saw fit to save him--he
would be a different man. The Almighty had his word for it. Still
sitting with his back against the wall and his cramped legs extended in
front of him, Rufus rolled his eyes in supplication to the circular blue
space above him and registered this vow with all the fervour and
sincerity of which he was capable.

He moved uneasily. He was vaguely conscious of a dampness. He felt
mechanically of that section of his overalls upon which he was sitting.
He sprang to his feet with an exclamation and looked at the spot he had
occupied. Moisture! A seepage! Water! His eyes grew big with horror.
Even as he looked with dilating pupils he could see the earth da