“‘He must make haste—make haste,’ he moaned, softly.
“I stopped, holding on, while the Rector climbed up quicker than either of us had done it, drawing himself up by his arms in a wonderful way till he was abreast of we two—me holding on, and Joey hanging on by one foot.
“As soon as the Rector reached us, he said a few words of encouragement to Joey, who did not speak a word, and then climbing higher, tied the short rope he carried to the long rope just above the loop-knot which held Joey’s ankle. Then coming down a little, he tied his rope tightly round Joey, just under the armpits.
“‘That will bear you, my lad,’ he said. ‘But catch fast hold of it with your hands, while I cut your foot free.’
“Climbing up higher once more, he pulled out his knife, opened it with his teeth, and then began to saw through the strands of the loop that held Joey’s ankle, till there was a snap, a jerk, and a heavy swinging to and fro; for the poor fellow had fallen two or three feet, and was now hanging by the rope round his breast right way upwards.
“He did not make any effort for a few minutes, and as cheer after cheer came to us from below, he swung there, with us holding on for dear life.
“‘Can you climb down now, Rance,’ said the Rector, ‘if I cut you free?’
“‘No, sir,’ he said hoarsely, ‘I’ve no use in my arms or legs—they’re all pins and needles.’
“‘Then we must lower you down,’ said the Rector, calmly. And getting hold of the long piece of rope, he climbed up once more, as coolly as if he was on an apple tree in his own orchard, and saw that the knots were fast; then coming down, he passed his long rope through the one round Joey’s breast, and tied it again round him.
“‘Now,’ he said, ‘Fincher and I will hold on by this rope, and you can let yourself slide through the other loop—one arm first, and then the other, steadily.’