Árdís - 01.01.1963, Blaðsíða 32

30
ÁRDÍS
FRANK STEPPED forward and had a strange feeling, as if he
were walking on a bed spring. He got down on hands and knees
and crept on until he came to a hole in the ground no bigger than
a child’s hoola hoop, through which Skipper and Roy had fallen.
Now Frank was really worried; he feared the little boy was hurt
or stunned.
“Roy!” he shouted down the hole. “Roy, are you hurt?”
There was no answer. He shouted again, and held his breath
listening.
“I found Skipper,” the boy called. “I wanna come up.”
Frank released his breath in a long sigh of relief. Roy didn’t
sound hurt. He thrust the flash down through the hole and
looked about. The hole was deep, the bottom covered with twigs
and leaves. It must be a large hole for he couldn’t see the sides.
“I wanna come up,” Roy screamed, and kept on screaming.
This upset the dog so it howled. It sounded terrible and gave
Frank the creeps.
He knelt there trying to think of a way to get them up. Tall
slim poplars grew on the hill, he could cut one down, but knew
neither the dog nor boy could climb up it.
Another plan flashed on the screen of his mind.
“Roy,” he called down, “I’m going to the boathouse to fetch
a rope. Then I’ll haul you and Skipper out.”
“No,” Roy screamed. “Don’t go.” He sobbed and cried and the
dog howled.
The little boy was too frightened; Frank couldn’t leave him,
but he had to have that rope. He’d have to send the twins. The
palms of his hands grew damp as he thought of them alone near
the lake, and the walk through the woods. But there was no other
way, he had to send them.
“Boys,” he said soberly, “I need that hank of rope hanging
above the shelf in the boathouse to haul Skipper and Roy up. I’m
sending you to fetch it.”
“I know where it is,” Jim said excitedly.