Youth, Vol. I, No. 6, August 1902: An Illustrated Monthly Journal for Boys & GirlsVarious
General
Youth, Vol. I, No. 6, August 1902: An Illustrated Monthly Journal for Boys & Girls
Various
Children's literature -- Periodicals
The water was up to my neck. Ugh! how icy-cold it was--right from the
bowels of the earth. It seemed to freeze my blood. Ah, how stealthily
it crept up, little by little, inch by inch. It knew it had a victim
in its grasp, and had no fear of being cheated of its prey. In another
moment it would be at my mouth; another instant and it would be all
that I could do to breathe on tiptoe; another short minute and--I
turned and furiously beat again upon my prison wall with both my
fists. What madness! my eyes were almost starting from their sockets;
I imagined that they had the strange, hunted look of a poor rat when
cornered. I could understand the feelings of the little creature now.
My hands fell nerveless to my side. They struck upon something hard in
either pocket of my coat. I thrust them in--almost unconsciously, and
drew forth--the hammer and the chisel.
I uttered a cry of delight, and in another moment I was chiseling away
for dear life under water. In no time I had hacked out two rude steps.
I formed another just above the surface of the water, another still
higher, and another as high as I could reach.
The water was to my nose. I dropped my tools and by the aid of nail and
hand and foot managed to draw myself up step by step, until I could
grasp the edge of the trap-door. Thus much accomplished, it was an
easy matter to lift myself out. I fell, panting and trembling in every
nerve, upon the rough board covering of the tank.
* * * * *
Mr. Eller had not heard my shouts for the simple reason that he had
been called by business into Fresno. The men slept in a house too far
distant from the windmill for my cries to reach. Thus it was that I had
been allowed nearly to yell my voice away without attracting attention.
I had had a pretty good scare it must be confessed; so good, indeed,
that I have forever ceased to emulate Don Quixote in any more
adventures with a windmill.
[Illustration: THE MORNING’S TRIAL]
WITH WASHINGTON AT VALLEY FORGE
By W. Bert Foster
CHAPTER XIV
The Occupation of Philadelphia
SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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