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The boy at the lip of the well recalled the muffled plop of the rock which his father had thrown down. A wait of a second or so, and a sound which had to be a splash. So far away. Vaguely, the boy wondered what sound his father would make, and rejected the thought as soon as it arose.
Joe Cottle was not going to fall. He was secure on a rope looped around his waist. Its other end was tied to the axle of the utility, and by its tautness the boy could see when Joe's full weight was suspended from it.
Stewart kept a good pace back from the well. He would have preferred to remain outside the fence, but his father had insisted he come close, to watch how he ...