Immediately Giraffe disappeared from view, and all they could hear consisted of the creaking of the windlass, as Thad lowered away, and the hysterical wailing of the woman belonging at the cottage.
A dozen and more times had the handle gone around and Thad began to wonder how deep that well could be. Then suddenly he heard a cry. It welled up from the depths and sounded very weird, but Thad knew this must be the signal he had arranged with Giraffe, to indicate that the latter was close to the water.
Immediately there came two more calls, which meant that Giraffe wished to be lowered a little further; Thad accordingly allowed another turn of the handle, so as to release several more feet of the rope. A single cry announced that this was enough; and then a brief period of great suspense followed.
They heard the dripping of water, accompanied by more or less splashing.
"Oh! I hope he hasn't fallen in himself!" Bumpus was heard to say, with a long breath, as his overwrought feelings almost overpowered him.
Then came three calls. That was the signal for those above to draw up. Allan was already at Thad's side, and ready to bend the power of his young muscles to assist in the task, and together they made that windlass creak at a lively rate as they worked.
Bumpus was on his knees now. He acted as though a new fear oppressed his heart. What if the strain proved too great, and the rope parted--Giraffe must be hurled back into the depths, and a tragedy would be presented to them.
It was with the liveliest possible feeling of gratitude that Bumpus finally saw the beloved face of his chum appear in view above the stone coping of the well. He was also struck with the fact that Giraffe seemed to be grinning instead of having a serious expression on his thin countenance.
Allan put out a hand and assisted him to effect a landing on solid ground. Meanwhile the woman had set up a renewal of her half shrieks Bumpus could easily guess why this should be, for look as he might he could see no sign of a child!
"Where's poor little Benjy, Giraffe?" the fat scout demanded, half indignantly, for he could not understand what it all meant.
Then what did Giraffe do but thrust a hand into the bosom of his splashed khaki coat and draw out the queerest _puppy_ Bumpus had ever seen. He stared at the water-soaked little beast as though he thought he might be looking at something unreal.