Part 4 (2/2)

”Hold still, will you?” bawled Hardock. ”Chucking yourself down won't save him.”

”Then let me down by the rope.”

”Nay; it's parted once, and you'd be drowned too.”

”I don't care! I don't care!” cried Joe, wildly. ”I must go down to him. Let go, will you?” and he struggled fiercely to get free.

But the man's strength was double his, and he tore the boy from the wall, threw him down on his back, and placed a foot on his breast to hold him as he rapidly ran out the rest of the rope, till only about a yard remained, and then he released him.

”Now, you keep quiet,” he growled. ”You're mad--that's what you are!”

Joe rose to his feet, awed by the man's manner, and grasping now the fact that he was about to take the only steps that seemed available to save his companion.

For Hardock hurried to the other side of the opening, where the wall had been built close to the edge, and there was no s.p.a.ce between, so that he could, in leaning over the wall, gaze straight down the shaft.

And then he began jerking the rope; and as he did so they could faintly hear indications of its touching the water far below.

”D'yer hear, there?” he shouted. ”Lay holt o' the rope. Can't you see it?”

As he spoke, he jerked the stout line and sent a wave along it, making it splash in the water far below; but the faint, whispering and smacking sounds were all the answer, and Joe burst out with a piteous cry,--

”He's drowned! he's drowned! Or he's holding on somewhere waiting for me to go down and save him. Pull up the rope, quick! No; fasten it, and I'll slide down.”

”Nay, nay; you keep quiet,” growled the man, whose face was now of a sickly pallor. ”How'm I to hear what he says, if you keep on making that row?”

”What--he says?” faltered Joe. ”Then you can hear him shout?”

”You be quiet. Ahoy! Below there! Ketch holt o' the rope. None o'

your games to frighten us. I know. Now, then, ketch holt and make it fast round yer.”

Joe stood there with his face ghastly, and his eyes starting, as, with his hands behind his ears, he strained to catch the faintest sound which came up as through a great whispering tube; but all he could hear was the splas.h.i.+ng of the rope, and a deep low musical dripping sound of falling water.

”D'yer hear there!” roared Hardock, now savagely. ”It arn't right of yer, youngster. Shout something to let's know where yer are.”

”He's dead--he's dead!” wailed Joe. ”Let me go down and try and get him out.”

”Will you be quiet!” roared the man, fiercely. ”D'yer want to stop me when I'm trying to save him?”

”No, no, I want to help.”

”Then be quiet. You only muddles me, and stops me from thinking what's best to do. Below there! Pendarve, ahoy! Ketch holt o' the rope, I tell yer!”

But he called in vain--there was no reply; and though he agitated the rope again and again, there was no other sound.

”There, now, let me go down. I must--I will go down, Sam.”

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