“Fasten it, is it?” said Pat, in a dubious tone; “sure that same I niver thought of at all at all. I forgot all about it, so I did.”
“Well, we’ll have to do something,” said Bart. “We can’t stand still here and die.”
“There’s the bit of a pick here,” said Pat. “Sure an we ought to be able to do somethin with the pick, so we ought.”
And with these words he stooped and lifted up the pickaxe which he had thrown in before they went down, and which, in the anguish and excitement which they had thus far felt, had been altogether forgotten.
“We ought to do something with that,” said Bart.
“It won’t do any good to more thin one of us,”. said Pat, sadly, “for only one of us can use it at a time.”
“Nonsense,” said Bart; “if one of us can only climb up, can’t he help the other?”
“Sure an so he can,” said Pat; “an I niver thought of that, so I didn’t.”
“I wonder if we can climb with that?” said Bart.
“Sure an we can try,” said Pat; “an we ought to do somethin, so we ought.”