Part 5 (2/2)
”Go! Run away!” cried Joe. ”Oh, you wouldn't be such a coward! Here, quick! try again.--Gwyn, old chap! The rope--the rope. Oh, do try and catch hold,” he shouted down the pit.
But there was no reply; and wild now with frantic horror, the boy seized the rope and began to climb over the wall. ”Ah! none o' that!” roared Hardock, grasping his arms; and now there was a desperate struggle which could only have the one result--the mastery of the boy. For at last Hardock lifted him from the ground and threw him on his back amongst the heath, and held him down.
”It's no good to fight, young 'un,” he said breathlessly. ”You're strong, but my muscles is hardest. I don't say nought again' you, though yer did hit me right in the mouth with your fist. I like it, for it shows your pluck, and that you'd do anything to try and save your mate. Lie still. It's of no use, yer know. I could hold down a couple of yer. There, steady. Can't yer see I should be letting yer go to your death, too, my lad, and have to hear what the Major said as well as the Colonel. Not as I should, for I should be off; and then it would mean prison, and they'd say I murdered you both, for there wouldn't be no witness on my trial, but the rope, and mebbe they'd give me that for my share, and hang me. There, will yer be quiet if I let yer sit up?”
”Yes, yes,” said the boy, with a groan of despair.
”And yer see as I can't do nothing more, and you can't neither.”
”I--I don't know, Sam,” groaned the boy, as he lay weak and panting on his back in the purple-blossomed heath. ”No, no, I can't see it. I must do something to try and save him.”
”But yer can't, lad,” said the man, bitterly. ”There arn't nothing to be done. It's a gashly business; but it wouldn't make no better of it if I let you chuck yourself away, too. There, now you're getting sensible.”
Joe lay with his eyes closed in the hot suns.h.i.+ne, glad of the darkness to shut out the horror of the scene around him; for the bright blue sky, with the soft-winged grey gulls floating round and round above their heads, and the far-spreading silver and sapphire sea, were dominated by the mouth of the horrible pit, from which with strained senses he kept on expecting to hear the faint cries of his companion for help.
But all was very still, save the soft, low hum of the bees busily probing the heath bells for honey in the beautiful, wild stretch of granite moorland, and the black darkness was for the unhappy boy alone.
For the knowledge was forced upon him that he could do no more. He felt that after the first minute Gwyn's position must have been hopeless, and he lay there perfectly still now in his despair, when Hardock rose slowly, and began to haul in the line, hand over hand, coiling it in rings the while, which rings lay there in the hot suns.h.i.+ne, dry enough till quite a hundred-and-fifty feet had been drawn on, and then it came up dripping wet fully fifty feet more, the mining captain drawing it tightly through his hands to get rid of the moisture.
”Bad job--bad job!” he groaned, ”parted close to the end--close to the end--close to the end--well, I'll be hanged!”
He began in a low, muttering way, quite to himself, and ended with a loud e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n which made Joe sit up suddenly and stare.
”What is it?” he cried wildly. ”Hear him?”
”Hear him? No, my lad, nor we aren't likely to. But look at that.”
He held out the wet end of the rope, showing how it was neatly bound with copper-wire to keep it from fraying out and unlaying.
”Well,” said Joe, ”what is it?”
”Can't yer see, boy?”
”The rope's end? Yes.”
”Can't yer see it aren't broke?”
”Yes, of course. Why, it did not part, Sam!” cried Joe, excitedly.
”Nay; it did not part.”
”Then it came untied,” cried Joe, frantically. ”Oh, Sam!”
CHAPTER FOUR.
JOE HEARS A CRY.
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