The pit was winding, and the lantern could not be lowered so as to reveal its bottom to the one above.
Frank Reade, Jr., and Barney stood upon the edge of the pit after this discovery in a completely baffled state of mind.
“Well, I’ll be hanged!” muttered Frank, impatiently; “this is a pretty state of affairs. What are we to do?”
“Golly, Marse Frank!” cried Pomp, readily, “if youse will jes’ agree to it, I fin’ a way to jes’ brung Marse Harding up out ob dat!”
“Indeed!” exclaimed Frank. “What is it, Pomp?”
“Jes’ yo’ tie dat rope around mah waist, Marse Frank, an’ I go down inter dat ar place. If I don’ fin’ Marse Harding den it will be becase dis chile don’ try.”
“Good!” cried Frank, with alacrity. “There can be no harm in that, can there? And we may be able to rescue poor Harding.”
“Begorra, naygur, will yez let me go in yer place?” asked Barney.
“I don’ fink dat wud be jes’ de fing,” retorted Pomp. “I’se jes’ doin’ dis ar jab mahse’f, sah!”
Pomp quickly had the rope about him.