Then Pa would say, “Seems to be all right,” and he would pull up the bucket and blow out the candle.
“That’s all foolishness, Ingalls,” Mr. Scott said. “The well was all right yesterday.”
“You can’t ever tell,” Pa replied. “Better be safe than sorry.”
Laura did not know what danger Pa was looking for by that candle-light. She did not ask, because Pa and Mr. Scott were busy. She meant to ask later, but she forgot.
One morning Mr. Scott came while Pa was eating breakfast. They heard him shout: “Hi, Ingalls! It’s sunup. Let’s go!” Pa drank his coffee and went out.
The windlass began to creak and Pa began to whistle. Laura and Mary were washing the dishes and Ma was making the big bed, when Pa’s whistling stopped. They heard him say, “Scott! “He shouted, “Scott! Scott!” Then he called: “Caroline! Come quick!”
Ma ran out of the house. Laura ran after her.
“Scott’s fainted, or something, down there,” Pa said. “I’ve got to go down after him.”
“Did you send down the candle?” Ma asked.
“No. I thought he had. I asked him if it was all right, and he said it was.” Pa cut the empty bucket off the rope and tied the rope firmly to the windlass.
“Charles, you can’t. You mustn’t,” Ma said.
“Caroline, I’ve got to.”
“You can’t. Oh, Charles, no!”
“I’ll make it all right. I won’t breathe till I get out. We can’t let him die down there.”
Ma said, fiercely: “Laura, keep back!” So Laura kept back. She stood against the house and shivered.
“No, no, Charles! I can’t let you,” Ma said. “Get on Patty and go for help.”
“There isn’t time.”
“Charles, if I can’t pull you up—if you keel over down there and I can’t pull you up—”
“Caroline, I’ve got to,” Pa said. He swung into the well. His head slid out of sight, down the rope.
Ma crouched and shaded her eyes, staring down into the well.
All over the prairie meadow larks were rising, singing, flying straight up into the sky. The wind was blowing warmer, but Laura was cold.
Suddenly Ma jumped up and seized the handle of the windlass. She tugged at it with all her might. The rope strained and the windlass creaked. Laura thought that Pa had keeled over, down in the dark bottom of the well, and Ma couldn’t pull him up. But the windlass turned a little, and then a little more.
Pa’s hand came up, holding to the rope. His other hand reached above it and took hold of the rope. Then Pa’s head came up. His arm held on to the windlass. Then somehow he got to the ground and sat there.
The windlass whirled around and there was a thud deep down in the well. Pa struggled to get up and Ma said: “Sit still, Charles! Laura, get some water. Quick!”
Laura ran. She came hurrying back, lugging the pail of water. Pa and Ma were both turning the windlass. The rope slowly wound itself up, and the bucket came up out of the well, and tied to the bucket and the rope was Mr. Scott. His arms and his legs and his head hung and wobbled, his mouth was partly open and his eyes half shut.
Pa tugged him onto the grass. Pa rolled him over and he flopped where he was rolled. Pa felt his wrist and listened at his chest and then Pa lay down beside him.
“He’s breathing,” Pa said. “He’ll be all right, in the air. I’m all right, Caroline. I’m plumb tuckered out, is all.”
“Well!” Ma scolded. “I should think you would be! Of all the senseless performances! My goodness gracious! scaring a body to death, all for the want of a little reasonable care! My goodness! I—” She covered her face with her apron and burst out crying.
That was a terrible day.
“I don’t want a well,” Ma sobbed. “It isn’t worth it. I won’t have you running such risks!”