Jem was evidently retaken, and to escape would be cowardly, he thought; and in this spirit he began to draw himself slowly back till, after a great deal of exertion, he had contrived to get his legs beyond the eaves, and there he rested, hesitating once more.
Just then he heard voices below, and holding on by one hand, he rapidly drew up a few yards of the rope, making his leg take the place of another hand.
There was a good deal of talking, and he caught the word “rope,” but that was all. So he continued his toilsome ascent till he was able to grasp the edge of the skylight opening, up to which he dragged himself, and sat listening, astride, as he had been before the attempt was made.
All was so still that he was tempted to slide down and escape
for no sound suggested that any one was on the watch. But Jem! Poor Jem! It was like leaving him in the lurch.
Still, he thought, if he did get away, he might give the alarm, and find help to save Jem from being taken away.
“And if they came up and found me gone,” he muttered, “they would take Jem off aboard ship directly, and it would be labour in vain.”
“Oh! Let go!”
The words escaped him involuntarily, for whilst he was pondering, some one had crept into the great loft floor, made a leap, and caught him by the leg, and, in spite of all his efforts to free himself, the man hung on till, unable to kick free, Don was literally dragged in and fell, after clinging for a moment to the cross-beam, heavily upon the floor.