Part 4 (1/2)

”Mean it? Yes, of course,” said the boy, flus.h.i.+ng.

”Then, here you have it. I just make a knot like this about your chesty, so as it don't grow tight and can't slip. That's your sort.

How's that?”

As he spoke, he quickly fastened the end of the rope about the boy's breast, tested the knot and then lifted Gwyn by it.

”Now, if you stick the hammer in your waistband, and have hold of the rope above your head with one hand to ease the strain, you'll go down like a cork, only keep yourself clear of the side.”

”Mind and don't turn and roast, Ydoll,” cried Joe; ”but you'd better let me go.”

”Next time. Ready?” said Gwyn.

”Ay.”

”Then over I go.”

As if fearing to hesitate, the boy got over the low wall and stood on the narrow edge of the old, crumbling, fern-hung shaft, and the next moment he was being lowered down, Joe turning a little faint from excitement as the upturned face disappeared, and he watched the rope glide through the man's bony hands.

”How far are you going to let him down?” he said, anxiously.

”Far as he likes, my lad. Till he comes to paying ore. You see that the rings o' rope run clear, and keep it right for me to run out. He's tidy heavy for such a little 'un, though.”

Joe seized the coil, and made the rope run free, keeping spasmodically a tight hold of it the while, in case the man should let it slip.

And so some sixty feet were allowed to run out, with Gwyn keeping on cheerily shouting, ”All right!” from time to time.

It was instantaneous.

Suddenly the mining captain started back and blundered against Joe, completely knocking him over. A wild shriek arose from the old shaft, sounding hollow, awful and strange, and the rope, which had either parted or come undone from the boy's chest, was swinging slackly to and fro in the great black pit.

CHAPTER THREE.

AT AGONY POINT.

_Plosh_!

There is no combination of letters that will more clearly express the horrible, echoing, hollow sound which, after what seemed to be a long interval, but which was almost momentary, rose out of the ancient shaft, followed by strange and sickening splas.h.i.+ngs and a faint, panting noise.

Then all was still; and Joe and the mining captain, who had been absolutely paralysed for the time being, stood gazing wildly in each other's face.

That, too, was almost momentary, and, with a despairing cry, Joe Jollivet dashed at the low wall and began to climb over it, dislodging one of the stones, which fell inward, and then plunged down into the pit just as Hardock seized the boy by the waist to drag him back.

”What are you going to do?” roared the man, and the splash and roar of the fallen stone also came rus.h.i.+ng out of the mouth.

”Do?” cried Joe, hysterically; ”try and save him.”

”But you can't do it that way, boy,” panted the man, whose voice sounded as if he had been running till he was breathless.

”I must--I must!” cried Joe, struggling to get free. ”Oh, Gwyn, Gwyn, Gwyn!”