"He is dead; he must be. Don't fling away your life. It's not only the bad air, it's the depth; these places go down nobody knows how deep!"
"One can but try," was the reply, as Gaunt completed the swift knotting of the rope.
"Listen to me!" he said, laying his hand upon the shaking Percy's nerveless arm, and speaking quietly and naturally with the intention of calming the other's hysteria. "Summon the men—get another rope. If I find him, I will signal by three tugs for you to pull him up. Do you understand?"
"Let—let one of the men go down," shrieked Ferris wildly.
"There isn't time. Virginia!" He raised his voice a little, and the white, still girl started.
"Crawl out at once and summon the men—as many as you can. Then send Ransom with the car for Dr. Dymock. Can you hear me?"
"Yes, I am going."
That was all. So he dismissed her, so he flung love and life away from him out of the struggle. He sat upon the edge of the hole, his electric torch fixed upon his chest, the rope about his middle, and began to tie a handkerchief over his mouth.
"Don't go—don't go; he's dead by now. Oh, can't somebody come? Help! Help!" cried Ferris distractedly. "Your fault, confound you!" he shrieked to the trembling, ashy Joey.
"Silence, Ferris; I think he is calling!"...