He didn't
get far. In his panic he ran straight towards the well, banged his
head against the windlass, and went thundering down the twenty or
thirty feet of shaft souse into the water at the bottom, where he
splashed and shrieked like a fiend, the noise reverberating up the
long shaft.
Hugh and the Chinaman ran to the well-top, Hugh cursing under his
breath. Every possible obstacle that could arise had arisen to
block his journey; every man that could have helped him was away,
or dead, or otherwise missing; and now, to crown all, after getting
thus far, he had apparently struck a prize lunatic, and would have
to stay in that awful desolation, perhaps for a week, with him and
a Chinaman. Perhaps he would have to give evidence on the lunatic's
dead body, and even be accused of causing his death. All these
thoughts flashed through his mind as he ran to the well-head. From
the noise he made the man was evidently not dead yet, and, looking
down, he saw his eyes glaring up as he splashed in the water.
"What's up with him?" roared Hugh to the Chinaman.
"Him, dlink, dlink--all-a-time dlink, him catchee hollows."
They had started to lower the bucket, when suddenly the yells
ceased, a loud bubbling was heard, and looking down they saw only
a dim, round object above the water.
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