was hoarse before he realized his folly. There
were no neighbors near enough to hear his cries. The sensible thing
was to husband his strength till some vehicle passed and then call
lustily. Again he addressed the child.

"Celia, dearie, keep your ears open. When we hear wheels coming, we'll
holler for all we're worth."

They listened till they heard upon the road the rhythmic foot-beats of
horses, and the rattle of some farmer's wagon rumbling homeward from
the village. Then together they screamed for help. But the hoofs went
on beating their tattoo till the sound grew faint, and the rattle of
the wagon died in the distance. Again and again the sound which told
of human nearness woke hope in their hearts only to die in the ensuing
silence.

"Uncle Joel," Celia wailed, "I'm co-old." Her sobs echoed uncannily as
if the well were filled with the ghosts of weeping children. Again he
gazed at the disk of blue sky overhead. He seemed to himself to be
viewing it from some indeterminate half-way house between life and
death. And yet of the two, the invisible world seemed nearer than the
earth roofed over by that placid sky.

As time passed his suffering became acute. The weight of the child on
his shoulder was an increasing torture. The cramped arm raised to hold
her secure was racked by intolerable pain. The chill of the water was
paralyzing. His heart labored. His breath came with difficulty.
Celia seemed to be relapsing into an unnatural drowsiness. Her body
sagged lifelessly. He found it necessary to stand close to the side of
the well, that the wet stones might help to support her weight.

There was only once he prayed, unless his struggle be counted as one
long prayer. But when his appeal found words, it was less a petition
than a suggestion. "She's so little, Lord, for it to end here, and
she's had a hard time so far. The fun's just beginning." It showed no
lack of wisdom, perhaps, that his prayer ended there.

His mind must have wandered a little later. It seemed as if his mother
were beside him, encouraging him as she had done long before in his
boyhood when he had wrestled with a difficult task. And then he was
out in the woods with a crowd of his boyhood companions and the wild
geese were flying south. Honk! Honk! Honk! "Guess that's why it's
so cold," Joel said, addressing the shadowy assembly. "Winter's
coming."

The sound of his own voice brought him back to reality. What he