He had one free hand, with which, when he found
that other exertions did not avail, he tried to dig himself out; but
the more he dug, the more the great pile of adobe above him slid
down on his face, till he was in such imminent danger of being
smothered that he was forced to desist.
It was almost all he could do to breathe with such a weight upon
him, but after a few moments' rest he tried to shout for help. His
shouts were not very loud, and soon he had to stop. He lay breathing
heavily and looking up at the pile of dull earth.
"I wish," he panted, "I hadn't--come here."
He fervently hoped that some sight-seer like himself might be
attracted to the old, out-of-the-way adobe, for Jo was now convinced
that it was impossible for him to set himself free. He tried again
and again, but always with the same result of semi-suffocation under
the sliding debris.
The forenoon passed away. The sun, mounting higher, shone over the
dilapidated walls, and fell full on Jo's face. He shielded his eyes
with his free hand. The sun beat heavily on his head. Sometimes he
thought he heard a rustle in the wild oats, and he cried out for
help, but he afterward concluded the sound had been made by the wind
or by some lizard.
Gradually the shade began to lengthen in the adobe. Jo looked
wistfully at the shadow of the wall as it stretched a little farther
toward him, and he sighed with relief when at length the sun that
had made his head so hot was guarded from his face by the shadow
that reached him.
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