The Boy Inventors' Radio Telephone by Richard Bonner
page 24 of 210 (11%)
page 24 of 210 (11%)
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A faint, far-off cry, impossible to locate, was borne to their ears.
"It's a call for help," declared Dick. "That's what it is," agreed the red-faced farmer. "Must be that perfusser of yours, but where in the name of Sam Hill is he?" It was a puzzling question. The faint cries appeared to be muffled in some way. They looked about them, endeavoring to locate their source. Suddenly one of the farm hands spoke. "I used to work fer old Crabtree," he said. "There's an old well hereabouts somewheres and maybe he's fell down that." "Where is it?" demanded Jack. "Back in the meadow yonder," said the man, pointing in the direction of the pasture lot. "Let's go over there and see at once," said Dick. "Frantic frogs of France, if the professor's tumbled into a well he may be in serious trouble." They set off on the run to where a pile of stones showed a well-curb had once been. The hoards at the top, which had covered it over, had rotted, and there was a jagged hole in them. Jack cautiously bent over and placed his mouth at the edge of the hole. "Professor, are you down there?" he hailed. |
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