With more or less difficulty he managed to accomplish this task. It would relieve Bristles considerably; and even as it was, the straining boy up there would have a tremendous task ahead of him, raising two persons at a time.
Fred threw his arm around the girl, whom he could just dimly make out. She clung wildly to him, as though realizing that all her hopes of getting out of this strange prison rested in the boy who had come down the rope so daringly.
"Now once again, old fellow, and do your level best!" Fred sang out.
So they went up, foot by foot. He held the girl in a tight clasp, and kept hoping the rope would not break, or any other accident happen. Bristles was tugging wildly away at the handle of the windlass, doubtless with his teeth set hard together, and every muscle of his body in play.
Now they were close to the top, and Fred called out, to caution his chum to slacken his violent efforts.
So once again Fred's eyes came above the curbing of the old well, and he found Bristles, panting for breath, but eager to assist still further in the work of rescue.
"Reach down," Fred said, quietly, wishing to calm the other; "and get your arms around her, if you can; then lift for all you're worth! She isn't heavy, only her clothes are soaked with water. There you are, and well done, old chap!"
Bristles had actually plucked the girl from the grasp of the boy who had to cling to the rope with one hand; she was already placed upon the ground, while he turned to assist Fred, starting to climb out unaided.
But the girl had not fainted, as Fred suspected. She was now on her knees, and trying to get upon her feet.
"Oh! what can have happened to him?" she muttered.