"But there's no uncertainty about this," cried Abraham, in a high state of excitement; "it's perfectly safe. Take hold, I tell you."
"Can't be done, sir, can't be done," said the Doubter; "there's not sufficient proof that you'll pull me out if I do take hold. No, sir; I've been deceived once, and I don't mean to be deceived again."
"Now, by heavens, Luff, this is too bad. He doubts my honor. What are we to do?" And Abraham wrung his hands in despair. "Halloo, there, I say—halloo!"
"Well, what do you want?" answered the voice of the Doubter.
"I want to pull you out. Surely you don't think I'll be guilty of any thing so dishonorable as to take advantage of your misfortune?"
"I don't think at all," said the Doubter, gloomily; "I've given up thinking. You may or may not be an honorable man. At present I have nobody's word for it but your own."
Here I thought it proper to protest that I knew Abraham well; that there was not a more honorable man living. "Besides," I added, "there's no other way for you to get out of the pit."
"Very well, then," said the Doubter; "I'll take hold, but you must take hold too, and see that he doesn't let go. Pull away, gentlemen!"
