“The poor fellow had hard work to do it; but the loop was loose enough to let him work it over his head, and then with the Rector striding across from the crocket at one angle to that on the other, and me holding on to the rope as well, we let him down, sliding with his back to the stone, till his feet touched the leads, when he fell down all of a heap.
“‘Untie the rope,’ said the Rector, ‘and get him down.’
“He spoke very hoarsely, shouting to them below; and a cheer came up.
“‘Now, Fincher,’ said the Rector, ‘we’ve got to get down.’
“As he spoke, he made a running noose in the rope with the end he held in his hand, let it run up to the the big noose, and pulled it tight.
“Then he made an effort to get his legs together on one angle; but the distance he had been striding was too great, and he couldn’t recover himself, but swung away by his hands.
“‘I can’t help it, Fincher—I must go first,’ he cried. And he was already sliding down the rope as he spoke; but I was so unnerved and giddy now, that I dared not look down.
“I believe I quite lost my head then for a few moments; for I was clinging there for life a hundred and twenty feet above the ground, and the wind seemed to be trying to push me from my hold.
“I was brought to myself, though, just as the landscape about me seemed to be spinning round, by feeling the rope touch my side; and I clasped it convulsively with both hands, and then, winding my legs round it, slid rapidly down, the rope seeming to turn to fire as it passed through my hands.
“A few moments later, and I was safe on the tower leads, trying like the rest to smile at the danger we had passed through; but it was a faint sickly kind of smile and we were all very glad to get down to the green, and cared nothing for the cheers of the people.