terribly deep pit into which his companion might fall
if once the broken boughs which supported him gave way, Scarlett tried
bough after bough of the old oak to find one upon which he could depend;
but they all crackled in a way that threatened snapping if he trusted
one; so, reaching back, he got hold of a stout hazel which seemed to be
a dozen or fourteen feet high, dragged it down, and holding it by
twisting his hand among the twigs at the top, he began to descend.

At every movement the earth crumbled, and the bed of rotten wood
supporting Fred, as he lay back with his face to the light, shook so
that at any moment Scarlett expected to see it descend into the profound
abyss below. But in spite of this, as he climbed down the short
distance, he realised the state of affairs--that in its fall the oak had
crushed in the masonry arch over some old well-like place, leaving this
terrible hole securely covered till the wood had rotted away; and that
now it had been Fred's misfortune to leap upon the spot, go through, and
be held up by the broken wood, which formed a kind of rough scaffold a
short distance below.

Should he run back for help?

No; he could not leave Fred like that. And yet when he reached him he
was afraid that the slightest touch would send him down; and now he
realised how fortunate it was that Fred had been hurt, and had remained
insensible, for if he had struggled, the possibility was that he must
have gone through at once.

Short as the distance was, Scarlett had to take the greatest
precautions, for, as he tried to get foothold, something gave way
beneath him, and he hung by the hazel, feeling as if all the blood in
his body had rushed to his heart, for there was a loud hollow splash,
which went echoing horribly away, and he found himself with his eyes on
a level with the old crumbling masonry forming an arch.

He recovered himself though directly, for he could stretch out a hand
and touch Fred.

The touch had instant effect, for the lad opened his eyes, stared at him
wildly, and then said quickly--

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing much, if you are careful. You have fallen, and are hanging
here. Now--"

"Fallen? Oh yes, I remember; the tree," cried Fred. "Oh, my head, my
head!"

"Never mind your head," whispered Scarlett. "Now listen."

"I say, what hole's this? Is it a well?" said Fred, eagerly.

"Don't, pray don't talk. Now, can you reach up and get hold of the
hazel above m