istening, he could hear the afternoon breeze sighing among the branches
of the trees that grew almost over the gap in the quarry. Even that
died out, as if it meant to pass with the day, which must now be very
near its close.

It seemed so utterly foolish to waste his breath in this vain calling
that Fred changed his plans for a short time, and once more tried to
scale the straight wall.

This time he succeeded in making about four feet, and then had a tumble
that quite jarred him.

"That ought to let me know, all right, that I'll never make the top in a
year of Sundays, as Corney always says," he remarked, rubbing his elbow
where he had barked it on a stone, so that it smarted.

To amuse himself while he tried to think up some new scheme, Fred fell
to shouting again. He had a good, strong voice, but down in that
confined space it seemed muffled, and he would never have recognized it
himself.

Once he stopped and listened eagerly, his heart jumping with sudden
hope. Oh! was it possible that he had really caught what seemed to be a
distant voice calling?

If only it might not be some scolding bluejay; or perhaps a gossipy
crow, perched on a neighboring dead tree.

It did not come again; and so Fred hurriedly started to shout once more,
straining his lungs in order to make the sound carry further. So much
depended on help coming to him before the night set in. If he had to
spend many hours there he might suffer in the form of rheumatism for a
long time afterwards, on account of the exposure in such a damp and cold
place.

Then he stopped to listen again, holding his very breath in suspense.
What a thrill it gave him when he distinctly heard some one bawl out:

"Hello! yourself! Where under the sun are you; and what's the matter?"

That was no crow or bluejay, he knew for a certainty; and accordingly
Fred made haste to answer:

"I'm down in one of the lime pits here. Can't get out. Please come and
give me a hand. This way! I'll keep calling to guide you; but don't
leave me whatever you do."

Every few seconds thereafter he would give a shout, to be answered by
the unknown, who was evidently getting warmer and warmer on the scent.
Never could Fred remember when a human voice had sounded so sweet to
him; simply because it meant rescue and safety, and a chance to run in
the great race upon which his heart was set.

Now he could actually hear the other moving above, and so he gave a last
little whoop. The bush