"Of course we can," said Mr. Halliday, "but I'd like to know what on earth you are doing there."
"Thanking my stars I'm not skewered," said the other. "Let down your rifle, will you? Perhaps I can manage to scramble out; but don't let me drag you down."
Mr. Halliday lowered his rifle, holding it by the barrel, having first taken the precaution of emptying the breech; and the prisoner took it by the stock, and tried to clamber up the side of the hole. But he winced as his right foot touched the earth, and after a few moments said--
"I'm afraid I can't manage it. My ankle has got a twist. If you'll shout for my men I'll get one of them to make a sling of rope and haul me out."
"We needn't wait for that," said John. "I'll jump down and give you a lift."
"Look out, then. There's a pointed stake in the ground here which I only escaped by a hair's breadth. Jump to the left. It's uncommon good of you."
John leapt down, and making a pick-a-back, got the stranger to mount and then to stand erect on one foot. His head was now just below the level of the pit.
"I'm afraid we're not much for'arder," he said, with a smile.
"Can't you get your elbows on the edge and hoist yourself up?" suggested John.
"Can't reach. You'd better let me down."