And then carefully and cautiously he let himself down, clinging with his hands to a stout twig of mountain ash that bent and swayed across the crevice with his weight.

Another moment and leaving go of the friendly branch, he dropped on damp fresh soil, and found himself in almost total darkness.  Then as his eyes got more accustomed to it, he saw the prostrate form of old Principle only a yard or two away from him.  The old man was breathing heavily, and his legs were completely buried under fallen earth.

“Is it Master Roy?” he said, as Roy came over and took hold of his hand; “ay, you shouldn’t have imprisoned yourself with me, laddie—­I didn’t rightly think of what you were doing—­I’m—­I’m in such pain!”

“Are you very hurt?  Oh, dear, what can I do?  I can’t lift you.  Are your legs broken?”

“I don’t rightly know.  If you could shift a little of the earth off, may be it would ease me!”

Roy looked round and then delightedly seized hold of a small shovel.

“Your shovel is here.  I’ll do it,” he said, cheerfully, and then to work he went.  The soil was fortunately not heavy to remove, but there was a great quantity of it before poor old Principle’s legs were liberated.  Roy toiled on, hot and breathless, longing that help should come, his own fatigue forgotten in his pity for the helpless old man.

“Can you lift yourself up, old Principle?  I really think I’ve got the earth off your legs—­at least most of it!”

There was a struggle, then a groan.

“I’m afraid not, laddie.  ’Tis the power that has quite gone out of them.  I’m fearing that old Principle will be never roaming the hills again, but there ’tis the Lord’s will, and He never do make mistakes.”

“Do you think your legs are broken like mine were?”

“I can’t rightly say.  It has seemed a weary time since I lay here.  Many days and nights I suppose—­and I’m longing for a drink, but thank the Lord, He has sent you to me.”

“It is only since yesterday that you have been lost.  And Dudley has gone back to get some men to come.  I wish I could get you some water, but there’s none here, is there?”

“I am afraid not.”

Silence fell on the pair, which was broken at last by,—­

“’Tis a good principle to think of your mercies when trouble overtakes you.  It has whiled away the time here, and I can thank the Lord with all my heart, that my head and hands are uninjured!”

“How did it happen?” asked Roy.

“I’m afraid I excavated too far and was in the midst of unearthing a large boulder of stone when I remembered no more—­it took me so sudden, and when I came to life again I thought I was in my bed at home with a ton’s weight on my feet.  ’Twas good of the Lord to give me air—­that crevice you came through has saved me.”

“You said a long time ago you could mend anything but broken hearts, but you can’t mend broken legs, can you?  Or you would have mended mine.”