“Yes, I’ll try,” was the reply, and Gwyn’s toes were heard scraping over the rock again and again, but without result, and Joe uttered a piteous groan.
“Can’t you do it?” cried Hardock from the other end. “Why, it’s as easy as easy. Up with him.”
“No—no! Can’t move!” cried Joe, frantically.
“Hold tight of him then till I come,” cried the man, and Joe uttered a piercing shriek, for the rope went down with a jerk which drew him forward upon his chest as his hands were torn from their hold, and he clutched wildly at the rock on either side to save himself from going down.
Just then one of the gulls swooped close to his head and uttered its strange querulous cry.
Chapter Seven.
Sam Hardock laughs.
Joe Jollivet must have gone over the cliff in another instant headlong down to destruction, for only one thing could have saved him, and in all probability the sudden jerk of his snatching at his comrade would have taken him, too.