George saw the expression of horror on my face from halfway across the yard. Even before I started yelling for help, he was on his way toward me. Through my shallow, ragged breaths of panic, I choked out, “she’s in the well!”
My neighbor was galvanized into action. He practically carried me to his pickup and we peeled out of the driveway toward his barn. George slammed the parking brake down while we were still moving. The truck screeched to a halt and George ran into the barn. He came back ten second later with a long, extendable ladder. He threw it in the back of the pickup, cracking the glass on the rear window of the cab with the force of his throw. Without even a hint of concern for the window, he jumped back in the truck and we tore through the field separating our yards until we reached the old well on the edge of my property.