Those at the surface needed no second order, but began to haul away, Chris’s hands now growing wet as a horrible thought made him more nervous; and that thought was, What would be the consequence if the rope broke or the barrel slipped from its fastenings?
He shuddered again and again at the idea, as with Bourne now helping, the barrel was drawn higher and higher, and then all at once was checked by catching against some projection.
“Lower it a little,” whispered Chris huskily, and the weight was allowed to descend a few inches, being in the gloom as it went down.
“Up now,” cried Chris again, and the next moments were exciting in the extreme, as he anticipated another check when the projection was reached. But Chris’s gasp turned into a faint hurrah as the barrel hoops scraped over the projection, and it came up now hand over hand till it reached the surface and was drawn right away to stand amongst the loose stones.
“Got it?” came from below.
“Yes,” cried the doctor. “All right. Can you climb up?”
There was no answer for some seconds, and then the American said, in a peculiarly husky voice—
“Coming up. Haul steady.”
Three pairs of hands were at the rope now, and their owners exchanged glances as they kept up a steady strain, feeling that Griggs was trying to climb, but jerking the line again and again as if his efforts resulted in a series of slips. After the last the adventurer’s efforts seemed to be so feeble that the haulers kept on steadily gathering in the rope hand over hand, till Griggs’ hands came within reach, when Chris and Ned each seized one to give the final tug which drew him over the edge of the hole and right away to a level spot, where he sank down, apparently quite exhausted, and with a peculiarly strained look about his eyes.
“Feel overdone?” said the doctor.