Long minutes went by, and still no signal came from below to haul up.
One of the sailors—a light-weight, but strong—had just proposed shinning down the rope, when suddenly it was shaken three successive times, and the men commenced hauling up with every care.
Charlie and Walt had nothing to do, and their suspense was therefore dreadful.
The rope seemed so thin. What if it should suddenly snap from chafing over the sharp edge of the rock!
At last, however, brave Ingomar’s handsome, resolute face was seen over the precipice. And in his arms he bore a sad burden.
Curtis was not tall, so his weight was nothing in comparison with the strength of his rescuer. But his face hung backwards, and was covered with blood.
The doctor, who had come back with the men, now made attempts to resuscitate his unfortunate patient. But for a long time he was unsuccessful. At last Arnold opened his eyes, and was presently able to swallow a little cordial, and even to talk a word or two, though very incoherently.
“There is no fracture,” said Dr. Wright, as the unfortunate lieutenant relapsed once more into insensibility. “Bear him to the boat most carefully, men, and we will follow.”
“No fracture, doctor. I’m so glad.”
Then Ingomar fainted. The strain had been too much for even his strong physique.