“Ready?” came from above.
“Not quite, father. I’ll say when.”
That last demand gave the final fillip to the lad’s nerves, and, taking tightly hold of the spell above Joe’s head with both hands, he raised his own legs till they came level with Joe’s loins, and bestriding him as if on horseback, he crooked his legs and ankles round the sides of the ladder, held on by forcing his toes round a spell, and then, with his hands free, he hung back, and quickly knotted the rope about Joe’s chest.
“Steady, my lad! Be ready to take hold,” said Hardock, whose face was now streaming with perspiration, and his hands wet, as he looked up at the perilous position of Gwyn. Then, obeying a sudden thought, he loosened one hand, snatched off his cap, threw it down, and took three steps up the ladder, raising himself so that he could force his head beneath the lad, with the result that he gave him plenty of support, relieving him of a great deal of the strain on his muscles, for during the next minute he was, as it were, seated upon the mining captain’s head.
“That’s better,” panted Gwyn.
“Make a good knot, lad,” growled Hardock; and all was perfectly silent at the edge of the cliff above them, for every movement was being attentively watched.
“Hah!” sighed Gwyn, as he tightened the last knot.
“Quite safe?” asked Hardock.
“Yes, quite.”
“What next?”