The answer gave John no concern, for he knew this peculiarity of Fayette's; so he walked quietly away toward the old shed where he had tied his horses, to give them their food and secure his own. Before he reached them, however, he heard a loud shout, and, turning, saw the foolish boy capering about on the beam which had been laid across the top of the well, and from which the rope and bucket were still suspended. "'Bony,' you fool, get off that! A misstep and you're gone!" "All right, I'll get off!" There was a wild waving of arms, a burst of derisive laughter, and "Bony" had disappeared. CHAPTER IX. THE WATERLOO OF BONAPARTE LAFAYETTE. The teamster's cry of horror brought everybody to the scene. Cleena was the first to reach it and to find John standing by the mouth of the well, whitefaced and trembling. "What's it? What's down there? What mean ye yellin' that gait? Speak, man, if ye can." He could only point downward, while he strained his ears to catch any sound that might come from below. Then Cleena shook him fiercely. "Speak, I tell ye! Where's the boy?" The other still pointed down into the shaft, but he made out to say:-- "I heard him laugh, then shout, and he must have gone stark crazy." "He down there? That poor, senseless gossoon? Where was you that you'd leave him do it?" "I was walking--wait! I hear something." Four white, terror-stricken faces now bent above the old well, while Cleena's arms clasped her "childer" tightly, fearing they, too, might be snatched away from her. "Saints save us, it's bewitched! Oh, the day, the day!" "Shut up, woman! Keep still. I hear something." Again they stooped and listened, and Amy's keen ears reported, joyfully:-- "It's Fayette! It is, it is! It sounds as if he were speaking from the far end of a long, long tube. But he's alive, he's alive!" "He might as well be dead. His bones must be broken, and he can't live long in such an air as that," said Hallam. "I don't know. That he's alive at all proves that the air isn't as bad as I thought. Besides, he may not have broken any bones. He's had fearful falls, before this, and he always came out about sound. But the rope doesn't reach much more than two-thirds down. I've heard they dug this well a hundred and fifty feet deep. They had to, to reach water from top this rock." "A hundred and fifty feet! How can we possibly reach him?" "Not by standin' talkin'. Whisk to the cottage, Amy, an' beg the length of all the rope they have. To save a lad's life--be nimble!" The girl was away long before Cleena finished speaking, while the latter herself darted into the house, caught off the sheets and blankets from the beds, and tore them into strips. Never wasting one motion of her strong hands, and praying ceaselessly, she tied each fresh length and tested it with all her force.