Sappers and Miners Part 4

"Mean it? Yes, of course," said the boy, flushing.

"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 splashings 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 rushing 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!"

"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 splashing 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."