Despair settled down on him,
blacker, more terrible than the coming night. He fancied he could hear
the mill hands crash through the death hole, and he called wildly,
"Help! Oh, somebody help me!" all the time knowing that the shanties
were too far away for anyone there to hear, and that the footpath above
him was too lonely for any chance lumberman to be taking at this hour.
No one ever passed that way but himself, and in the old days Andy and
the grey--oh, he had not thought of the grey--where had the animal gone?
Instantly he whistled, called, whistled again, and over the ledge above
his head looked a long, serious face, with great solemn eyes, and a
soft, warm nose. The very sight gave the boy courage, and at his next
whistle the old horse carefully picked his way down the bank, and
reaching down his long neck, felt Jacky's shoulder with his velvety
muzzle.
"Oh, Grey," cried the boy, "you must help me. You must do something, oh,
something, to help!" Then he made an attempt to stand, to get on the
animal's back, but his poor foot gave out, and he huddled down to the
ground again in pitiful, hopeless pain.
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