“No; I don’t think so,” cried Joe.
“Don’t yer? Well, I’m sure on it. I couldn’t do anything but hold on to the rope, and no one could ha’ saved you but yourselves.”
“But you shouldn’t have laughed,” said Gwyn, gravely.
“What was I to do then, Colonel? It was the only thing likely to spur you up. I thought it would make you both wild like, and think you warn’t in such a queer strait, and it did.”
The boys exchanged glances.
“Yes,” continued Hardock, as he shook hands solemnly with both, “there was nobody to help you, my lads, but yourselves, and I made you do that; but talk about giving a man a turn—Oh, dear! oh, dear! And now my pipe’s gone right out.”
“Light it again, then, Sam,” said Gwyn, quietly, as he stooped stiffly to pick up the fallen pipe, and hand it to its owner.
“Thank ye, my lad, thank ye; but I don’t feel in the humour for no pipes to-day, I’m just as if I’ve had a very gashly turn.”
“But you might have tied the rope round me better, Sam,” said Gwyn.
“Ay, I might, my lad, but somehow I didn’t. Are you hurt much?”