“Wish it had been ten times harder,” he snarled.
“Oh, never mind,” said Bigley, “I’m getting tired of holding the rope. Why don’t you climb up? Make haste!”
“I’m going home,” grumbled Bob. “If I had known you were two such fellows I wouldn’t have come.”
“Here, you get up, Sep,” cried Bigley. “I’ll stand close up to the rock, and you can climb up me, and then lay hold of the rope.”
“No, no,” I whispered; “it would only make Bob savage.”
“Never mind; he’ll come round again. He won’t go—he’s only pretending.”
I glanced at our school-fellow, who was slowly shuffling away some twenty or thirty yards down the slope, and limping as he went as if one leg was very painful.
“Here, Bob!” I cried, “come and have another try.”
He did not turn his head, and I shouted to him again.
