time it was. Presumably he had fallen in there
about half-past four or maybe five. But there was no knowing how long he
had lain unconscious. It might be eight o'clock or it might be well
toward morning! He wished he knew!

Above his head, how far he could only guess, the night wind was whipping
the bare bushes. Now and then a gust came down and made him shiver, but
on the whole it was not uncomfortable down there as long as he was
moving about. But he couldn't keep that up much longer, for his head was
aching, his legs were stiff and lame and every movement sent little
thrills of pain down his arm from elbow to fingers. He was glad now of
his thick sweater and wished his legs were as warm as the upper part of
his body.

For a while he sat on a little rock near the wall along which he had
been travelling. Then he began to feel drowsy. That was fine, he
thought; if he could only go to sleep he could forget his discomforts,
and perhaps when he awoke it would be morning. So he felt about on the
broken stone and moist gravel that formed the floor of his prison half
fearsomely, afraid of encountering uncanny things in the dark. But his
hands found only soil and rock and scant vegetation and he laid himself
down gingerly out of respect to his aching body and closed his eyes. But
for a while the discomforts of his couch made themselves too apparent to
allow of slumber. Queer, stealthy little noises sounded about him and he
imagined all sorts of things creeping toward him through the darkness.
Once or twice he kicked his feet and cried "Scat!" loudly. Then he
laughed at himself for his nervousness and strove not to think of the
sounds. He wondered who had won the race and whether they had missed him
at school: whether Chub had caught up with Jack and Pryor; what Chub was
thinking about his disappearance. Then he started out of his drowsiness.
Surely he had heard his name called! He sat up and listened intently.
Then he called at the top of his voice half a dozen times. But he heard
nothing more, and presently he lay down again with a sigh, eased the
position of his throbbing arm and went quietly to sleep.

And the very next moment, as it seemed to Roy, he heard his name called
again, quite loudly and distinctly this time, and opened his eyes,
blinking, to find his prison filled with the grey, misty light of
morning and to hear voices above him. Then came his name again, in the
unmistakable tones of Mr. Cobb, and he had time t