“Help! help!” he screamed, and again disappeared.
King stood still, paralysed with fear.
In a moment Alfred had grasped the rope and descended rapidly, blistering his hands as he did so.
He had reached the water. Cox had risen again almost senseless. He grasped him by his jacket and held him with one hand, while he clutched the rope with the other.
“King,” he cried, “I can’t hold him long. Get some help at once! My arm is breaking!”
King was aroused by his cry, and looked wildly around. The rope was too rotten for him to dare to descend. There was no one to help them. Suddenly he seized one of the poles which formed the fence.
“Davidson, I will drop down one of these poles! Look out! Hang on to it when it is in the water.”
The pole reached the water with a splash, and as it did so, the upper end struck Alfred’s head a violent blow which almost stunned him. Away rushed King for help.
Alfred could feel the blood trickling down his face from the wound he had received. He felt faint and giddy, and his arms seemed to have lost all sense of feeling. He tried to cry out, but his tongue seemed to cleave to his mouth. He knew he could not hold on much longer, and if he let his school-fellow go, he must be drowned. All this flashed through his mind in an instant. His feet touched something. It was the pole, which was floating almost upright. He rested one foot on it, and it gradually sank, but after it had sunk about a foot he felt it was firmer, and he thought it must be resting on the bottom of the pit.