Margaret and the boy grasped the ladder; Peggy ran up it, and stood on the top rung, holding the lower end of the rope.
"All ready, Goat!" she called.
"Ay, ay!" said the quiet voice within. "Coming, Innocent!"
The women had followed Margaret and Peggy, and now a cry broke from them.
"She's got her!"
"'Tis Jenny! She was in there all the time!"
"She's dead!"
"She's not; she's living, I see her move. Oh, Mother of Mercy, they'll both be killed before their own eyes!"
What was Grace doing? The form she held in her arms was that of a slight girl of fifteen or so. She was knotting something round her, under arms and over breast; something half sling, half rope; towels, perhaps, tied strongly together. Now she brought the ends over her own shoulders, bending forward.