lambered far out over the wet rocks for hours,
finding abalones now and then, and waging war on these thick, rough
ovals that clung so tightly to the rock, the beautiful colors of the
abalone-shells entirely concealed. Timoteo saw nothing more of
Herbert, during these hours of work.

Timoteo succeeded in getting three abalones, the last an especially
large shell. He sat down on the rocks to rest, after the long
struggle with this big abalone. The tide was rising. He would go
home soon now.

While he sat there, it seemed to him that he heard the sound of
outcries. At first he thought it was the gulls. Half in fun he
shouted in reply. The distant cries seemed redoubled. Timoteo caught
up his basket and long spike. He sprang to his feet.

"Where is it?" he thought, confused with the splash of waves and the
toss of spray.

He listened. He sped, shouting, over the rocks in the direction from
which the cries seemed to come. He stopped now and then to listen.
Yes, it was a human voice that cried for help. It was not the gulls.

"Adonde?" (Where?) "Adonde?" shouted Timoteo, forgetting his English
in his excitement.

The answering shouts grew more distinct. Timoteo climbed over the
wet rocks till he found himself near a place where the sounds seemed
to come from between two rocks. Timoteo saw a boy reach up part way
between the two rocks. The boy could not crawl out. The hole between
the rocks was not big enough.

"Timoteo!" screamed a voice, and Timoteo recognized Herbert.

"Say!" Herbert called, "run for help, won't you? I was out here
abalone-hunting, and I guess one of these big rocks must have been
poised just right to topple over. Anyhow, in climbing down here I
managed to topple it. It didn't fall on me, but it fell against the
other rocks so that there isn't room for me to crawl out of here! I
can't make the rock budge, now. And the tide's coming! I thought I'd
drown, away out here, alone. You can't do anything with that spike.
It needs three or four men with levers. Run! The tide's up to my
waist, now! There isn't room between these rocks to crawl out."

For one moment Timoteo stood still and looked at Herbert. Then the
Spanish boy turned and flew over the rocks. Leaping from one
slippery foothold to another, he rushed toward the cliffs, up the
cliff road, on to the clusters of Chinese huts that made a little
fishing-village by itself on the edge of the bay. Whatever Spanish
or English vocabulary Timoteo use