As he spoke he untied the loop from about his waist and drew the rope tight from above.
“Just like me,” he grumbled. “If I’d had any head I should have made knots all down the rope, and then it would have been easy to climb; but here goes; and mind when I’m up you make a good hitch and sit in it, I’ll soon have you up.”
“Yes, I see,” said Will, who was fighting hard against the nervous dread that began once more to assail him; “pray take care.”
“Take care! why, of course I shall. Don’t catch me letting go of the rope in a place like this. Here goes!”
He reached up as high as he could, holding the rope firmly, and then swung himself out of the gallery over the black void, becoming visible to Will as the faint light from above fell upon his upturned face. Then with legs twined round the rope, Josh began to draw himself up a little bit at a time, the work being evidently very laborious, while Will held the rope and saw him disappear as he ascended beyond the gallery; but the rope the lad held was like an electric communication, the efforts of the climber being felt through the strong fibres as he went up and up.
Then there was a pause, and as Josh rested it was evident that he could not keep himself quite stationary, but slipped a few inches at a time.
Then he started once more, and as the cord jerked and swung, the loud expirations of the climber’s breath kept coming down to where, with moist palms and dewy forehead, Will listened.
How high was he now? How much farther had he got by this? Josh’s arms were like iron, and the strength in that deformed wrist and hand was tremendous.
Up he went; Will could feel it; and he longed to gaze up and see how he progressed; but somehow that horrible shrinking sensation came over him, and he could only wait.
How long it seemed, and how the rope jerked! Was it quite strong enough? Suppose Josh were to fall headlong into the black water below!