“Yes,” he said, with a little more spirit in his tone; “it’s long enough, but quite out of my reach—a couple of yards away, and I dare not move.”
“I’ll swing it to and fro till it comes close. Look out! Here goes.”
I began to swing the rope; and as it went to and fro it sent small stones rattling down and then splashing into the water, making me shiver. But they evidently fell clear of Denham, who sent a thrill of encouragement through me when he now spoke more cheerily.
“That’s right,” he said, and his words were repeated by the echoes. “A little more—a little more. No. Harder. It keeps catching among the stones. Give a good swing.”
I did as he told me, and then nearly let go, for he uttered a wild cry, almost a shriek. The next moment there was a peculiar rattling sound; the lamp flashed out brilliantly and lighted up the shaft; there was a sharp hiss, followed by a splash, and then all was in darkness.
“Denham!” I yelled, and I let the rest of the rope run through my hands till it could hang taut, meaning to slide down it and go to his assistance, for I was sure that all depended upon me now. I was already changing my position, when—my sinking heart, which seemed to suggest that I was about to descend to certain death, giving a sudden bound, and I felt choking—Denham spoke again.
“I couldn’t stop the lamp,” he said; “the rope caught it and knocked it off the ledge; but I’ve got hold.”
“Hurrah!”
I suppose I shouted that word, but it came out involuntarily. Then I listened, my heart beating painfully, for I could hear the poor fellow moving now, but, as it seemed, sending stone after stone rolling and splashing into the water.
However, nerved into action again, I did as he bade me, all the time fearing it was too late, for he shouted hoarsely: