that I can get to the bottom."

"Very good, sir," answered both.

Their master threw the other leg over the coping and sat motionless. His
back was turned toward the men as he sat with head bent, looking down the
shaft. He sat for so long that George became uneasy.

"All right, sir?" he inquired.

"Yes," said Benson, slowly. "If I tug at the rope, George, pull up at
once. Lower away."

The rope passed steadily through their hands until a hollow cry from the
darkness below and a faint splashing warned them that he had reached the
water. They gave him three yards more and stood with relaxed grasp and
strained ears, waiting.

"He's gone under," said Bob in a low voice.

The other nodded, and moistening his huge palms took a firmer grip of the
rope.

Fully a minute passed, and the men began to exchange uneasy glances.
Then a sudden tremendous jerk followed by a series of feebler ones nearly
tore the rope from their grasp.

"Pull!" shouted George, placing one foot on the side and hauling
desperately. "Pull! pull! He's stuck fast; he's not coming; PULL!"

In response to their terrific exertions the rope came slowly in, inch by
inch, until at length a violent splashing was heard, and at the same
moment a scream of unutterable horror came echoing up the shaft.

"What a weight he is !" panted Bob. "He's stuck fast or something.
Keep still, sir; for heaven's sake, keep still."

For the taut rope was being jerked violently by the struggles of the
weight at the end of it. Both men with grunts and sighs hauled it in
foot by foot.

"All right, sir," cried George, cheerfully.

He had one foot against the well, and was pulling manfully; the burden
was nearing the top. A long pull and a strong pull, and the face of a
dead man with mud in the eyes and nostrils came peering over the edge.
Behind it was the ghastly face of his master; but this he saw too late,
for with a great cry he let go his hold of the rope and stepped back.
The suddenness overthrew his assistant, and the rope tore through his
hands. There was a frightful splash.

"You fool!" stammered Bob, and ran to the well helplessly.

"Run!" cried George. "Run for another line."

He bent over the coping and called eagerly down as his assistant sped
back to the stables shouting wildly. His voice re-echoed down the shaft,
but all else was silence.

End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Well, by W.W. Jacobs

*** END OF THIS PROJECT