There was much prying with the iron rods before the stone was finally tilted enough so that the drenched prisoner was released.
"My father pay you," gratefully promised Herbert to the Chinamen, who nodded and plodded cheerfully back toward their tiny fishing-village.
Herbert looked at Timoteo.
"I'm much obliged to you," said Herbert.

"You were good to run for help." But now that Timoteo had seen the success of his helpers, an abashed silence seemed to have overtaken him.

He did not answer.

The silence lasted till the two boys reached the cliffs.

Herbert grew uneasy.
His conscience accused him somewhat.
"Come to my house, Timoteo, and my father will give you something for helping me," promised Herbert uneasily, as the boys climbed the cliffs.
Timoteo shook his head, but he did not look up.
"See here, Timoteo," burst out Herbert, stopping on top of the cliffs, "what's the matter?
Do you hate me ?" Timoteo glanced up slowly.