Then all at once the rope became slack, as if the tension had been removed, and Don turned faint with horror.
“It’s broken!” he panted; and he strained over as far as he could without falling to hear the dull thud of his companion’s fall.
Thoughts fly fast, and in a moment of time Don had seen poor Jem lying crushed below, picked up, and had borne the news to his little wife. But before he had gone any further, the rope was drawn tight once more, and as he held it, there came to thrill his nerves three distinct jerks.
“It’s all right!” he panted; and grasped the rope with both hands. “Now then,” he thought, “it only wants a little courage, and I can slide down and join him, and then we’re free.”
Yes; but it required a good deal of resolution to make the venture. “Suppose Jem’s weight had unwound the rope; suppose it should break; suppose—”
“Oh, what a coward I am!” he muttered; and swinging his leg free, he lay upon his face for a moment, right upon the sloping tiles and then let the rope glide through his hands.
It was very easy work down that slope, only that elbows and hands suffered, and sundry sounds suggested that waistcoat buttons were being torn off. But that was no moment for studying trifles; and what were waistcoat buttons to liberty?
Another moment, and his legs were over the edge, and he was about to attempt the most difficult part of the descent, grasping beforehand, that as soon as he hung clear of the eaves, he should begin to turn slowly round.
“Now for it,” he said; and he was about to descend perpendicularly, when the rope was suddenly jerked violently.
There was a loud ejaculation, and Jem’s voice rose to where he hung.