"Yes, I reckon all that is true; but we're no more likely to get a purchase on it than we are to walk out of here this minute."
"I believe it can be done."
"Then the handle of the door will give way first."
This was rather in the nature of a wet blanket on my hopes; but I would not admit that the plan had any defects which might not be rectified, and set about solving the problem.
Finally I hit upon a plan,—not anything very brilliant, but a makeshift which might possibly serve our purpose.
Doubling the rope, I made one end fast to the bar set into the stone we had been working upon, and the other end I bent on to the corresponding bar in the next window, hauling it taut as possible.
"With our feet against the lower edge of the window we should be able to fetch something away," I said in a hopeful tone; "and even though we fail at first, the plan is sure to succeed after we've picked out a little more of the mortar."
Well, we tugged and strained to the utmost of our strength for ten minutes or more, and then, just as I had said to myself that we never could succeed, one end of the bar started ever so slightly.
"It can be done!" Phil cried exultantly, and would have bent himself once more for a supreme effort but that I stopped him.
"There's little chance we could pull two bars out before sunset, and if the job is but half done when Benson comes back, he'll understand what we're trying to do. A fellow who makes a business of trapping men won't stop at anything, however desperate, in order to prevent his villany from being known to the authorities."