“Yes; all right. Now untie the rope from round me, and make it fast under his arms.”
“Where’s he hurt?” said the second warder.
“Leg, I think. His things are all wet with blood. Look sharp.”
The knots were untied, and as the insensible, wounded man was held up, the rope was made fast under his arms, and at the word, the unfortunate wretch was carefully hauled up.
But before he was half-way to the shelf there was a second hail from close down the water side.
“Here’s another of ’em, sir.”
“Hurt?”
“Yes, sir, or else shamming.”
“Wait till another man gets down to you,” cried the governor. “Be careful!”
The man who had given up his rope was not far above the spot where the second convict lay; and he managed to lower himself down, holding his lantern the while in his teeth, and soon after adding its light to that of the other warder’s.