This was true enough; but how to act upon it was another thing.
Several candles were lighted and stuck about on the rocks, making the black, gloomy cavern a trifle less sepulchral. Then they advanced to the pit’s brink. The lunatic, crouched on the ground gnawing a bone, stared stupidly at them.
“Don’t you know me, Tom?” said Eustace, speaking quietly. “We are come to get you away from here, old chap. You know me? Come now!”
But the poor wretch gave no sign of intelligence, as he went on munching his revolting food. Several times they tried him, each in different ways, but always without success. It was pitiable.
“We shall have to get him out by force,” said Shelton. “But how the deuce we are going to do it beats me.”
“We might lasso him with a reim, and haul him up that way,” suggested Hoste.
“I had thought of that,” said Eustace. “First of all, though, I’m going to have another try at the suaviter in modo. He may recognise me—nearer.”
“Nearer? What? How? You are never going down there!” cried Shelton.
“That’s just what I am going to do. Where’s that long reim, Josane?”
This was the long, stout rawhide rope they had brought with them in case it might be wanted for climbing purposes. Quickly Eustace had made a running noose in it.