Naturally Robert advanced till he stood on the brink of the well. An instant later and he was pushed violently forward and fell into the yawning pit. "That disposes of him forever!" said Fitzgerald, and turning, he fled swiftly from the spot, leaving the victim of his treachery to his fate. CHAPTER XXVII. ROBERT FINDS HIMSELF IN A TIGHT PLACE. The action of Fitzgerald was so rapid and unexpected that Robert was unable to protect himself in any way. He fell, but mechanically, as he had seen trapeze performers do in the circus when falling, he held himself erect, with his hands at his sides, and dropped in that position into three feet of water at the bottom of the well. Fortunately for him the depth of the well was not great, about fifteen feet, and he sustained no injury to his limbs, the water, moreover, breaking the force of the descent. Still, when unexpectedly he found himself at the bottom of the well, his situation was by no means pleasant. "What could have induced Mr. Fitzgerald to push me in?" he asked himself in a bewildered way. "What possible object could he have in doing it?" That his employer did push him he couldn't doubt, for he felt the push, which was a forcible one. Yet it seemed so causeless, so utterly without an object, that he was tempted to doubt the testimony of his senses. To the reader, of course, it is perfectly clear, but we have sources of information that Robert had not. He was not a boy to give up, though it certainly looked hopeless to attempt to get out. Had the well been at the East it would have been walled in on all sides by rocks, but stones of any size are not numerous in many parts of the West, and this had originally been boarded, but some of the boards had disappeared. "It isn't very deep," thought Robert, "but how in the world am I to get out?" He made several attempts, but they were all futile. Things began to look serious, for the house was deserted, and probably very few persons came that way. While in a state of painful anxiety he heard, faintly, a boy whistle. The sound became more distinct as if the boy were approaching, and hope was kindled in our hero's breast. "If I could only attract his attention," he thought. He shouted as loud as he could, but the sound was partially lost before it reached the surface of the well. Still it attracted the attention of Fred Lathrop, the boy who was whistling, who stopped to listen. "Where did that sound come from?" he thought. It was repeated, and this time he could distinguish the word "Help!" "By gracious, it comes from the well!" he said to himself. "Who can be down there?" He drew near and looked down. It was darker near the bottom, but he could descry Robert, who was looking up. "Who's there?" asked Fred. "It's I—a boy. Help me up!" "How did you get down there?" "Help me out and I'll tell you." "I don't see how I am to do it," said Fred, after a pause. "Isn't there a rope round about there somewhere?"