Dicky Atherton sprang up to the top again, gathering the rope until it was taut. The big young man had thrust his pole deep into the cleft near Jack: on the other side, Harry had done the same with a long fence-rail that some one had found on the shore. They glanced at each other.
“Ready—all together!” said Harry breathlessly. “Pull, Dicky!”
They bent on their levers, thrusting them deeper into the swirling water, while Dicky leaned back against the rope. I saw Jack set his lips as it tightened. For a moment nothing gave; and then the dry fence-rail split and shivered under the strain, and Harry went staggering back with a little gasp of despair. There was a kind of shudder through the group round the rock. Then the good green timber found its grip and held, and as the big man flung his weight on it, the rock moved and Jack’s shoulders came up. Harry sprang to add his strength to the pull: together he and Dicky drew the little prisoner up, and in a moment he was safe upon the top.
Beryl McNab broke into noisy crying.
“Oh, I thought it was all over when that rail broke!” she sobbed.
“Not much!” said Jack. He was very white, and his voice shook, but his eyes twinkled still. He put out a hand to Judy, who had neither moved nor spoken. She went on her knees beside him, holding the grubby little hand in a close grip.
“Hurt much, old Jack?” she asked with stiff lips.
“I feel as if I was all skinned with the rope,” Jack said, sitting up and rubbing himself. “Oh, and, by Jove, look at my legs! I’ve lost my sand-shoes!”
He had lost more than sand-shoes. Not only had they been pulled off, but his feet and ankles were almost skinned, with deep cuts and grazes from which the blood was now pouring.
“Golly, and I never felt a thing!” said Jack, much interested. “Why, I’m like a skinned rabbit! Well, I guess I’ll keep out of that sort of hole after this. Jolly lucky for me there were so many people about, wasn’t it?”