There was a loud jangling sound, and Chris held his breath as he saw the operator begin to draw upon the rope hand over hand, fully expecting to see a check, and that the hook had caught.
The boy was not disappointed—it had, and Chris uttered a low cheer.
“Got it!” he whispered.—“Why is he doing that?”
That was the jerking of the rope to set it at liberty to be drawn in again, for the simple reason that the catch was only the corner of a rock.
But Griggs was soon ready again, and he mounted on to the top of a stone before taking careful aim, as he swung the hook to and fro, and then once more launched it through the air, to fall this time with a dull sound as if it had struck upon wood.
“He’ll do it this time,” whispered Ned excitedly. “Yes: he has got it.”
For as Griggs hauled there was again a check, evidently, from the sound of the iron, against wood.
“Oh!” groaned Chris, as they saw the rope hauled in again quickly for another throw. “What a while he is! He won’t be able to see.”
“All right, Chris,” cried Ned cheerily; “third time never fails.”
“We shall have to do it, Ned,” replied Chris merrily. “Now then, once to be ready, twice to be steady, three times to be off: there it goes.”