round the
corner of that little stable. Here's our well; draw a bucket while I get
my wind. Oh! did you hear that, Fred? It sounded just for all the world
like a groan; and, as sure as anything, it came right out of this same
well!"

CHAPTER III

OUT OF THE DEPTHS

The two boys turned to look at one another; and if they showed signs of
alarm it was hardly to be wondered at.

"Oh! there it is again, Fred!" whispered Bristles, as a second sound,
that was certainly very like a groan, came from the well.

Fred caught his breath. It was an unpleasant experience, to be sure; and
might have tried the nerves of much older persons than two half-grown
lads; but, after all, why should they be afraid?

"Somebody may have fallen down the well, and can't get out again," Fred
remarked, with just the least tremor to his usually steady voice.

"Say, that's so," Bristles hastened to admit, as he cast a quick glance
at the almost ropeless wooden windlass; "don't you see the bucket's away
down? Whoever it is, Fred, they just can't climb up again. It takes you
to get on the inside track of things, Fred."

"If that's so, it might account for the fact that nobody seems to be
around the place," Fred went on to say.

"P'raps an old man lives here all alone, and he tripped over these
stones when he went to lift the bucket of water out, and fell in
himself. Gee! Fred, then it's up to us to get him out!"

The other stepped directly up to the edge of the old well. He saw that
the coping was uneven, some of the stones being loose. It looked very
much as if what Bristles had suggested might be the truth, and that some
person, when striving to raise a heavy bucket, had lost his balance,
slipped on the treacherous footing, and toppled into the well.

And, even as Fred Fenton bent down, he was thrilled to hear a third
groan come out of the depths. Nevertheless, instead of starting back, he
bent over further, as though hoping to look down and discover the truth.

"Can you see him?" asked Bristles, very white in the face, but bent on
sticking it out as long as his chum did.

"Sorry to say I can't," replied the other, calmly now, and with an air
of business about him that inspired Bristles to conquer his own
weakness. "My eyes have been so used to the sun that it looks as black
as a pocket down in this well. But perhaps he might answer a call."

"Give the poor fellow a hail, then, Fred, please. Just think how he
must have suffered,