“Here! hullo there!” cried Josh; “what’s up with you, lad?”
“I—I don’t know!” cried Will hoarsely. “I shall be better soon.”
“Better!” shouted Josh. “What! aren’t you all right?”
Will did not answer, but sat there chained, as it were, to his place.
Josh let fall the rope and stood upright, giving vent to a loud expiration of the breath, and then wiping the perspiration from his face.
He was thinking, and when Josh thought he closed his eyes tightly, as if he could think better in the dark. He was not quick of imagination, but when he had caught at an idea he was ready to act upon it.
The idea came pretty quickly now, and opening his eyes he looked sharply round, picked up a great stone, and drove the iron bar a little more tightly into the crevice of the rock.
Then he threw down the stone, stooped and tried the bar to find it perfectly fast, and once more stopped to think.
An idea came again, and he pulled off his black silk neckerchief, a very old weather-beaten affair, but tolerably strong, and kneeling down he bound it firmly round the bar above the rope, passing it through the loop at last, and knotting it securely below, so that the rope should not be likely to slip off the smooth iron.
This done, Josh stood upright once more, gazing down into the black shaft.