“Slip the noose at the end of the rope under your arms,” shouted King Stanislaus to Dragonfel, “and we will pull you up.”
The water was nearly over Dragonfel’s head by this time, and he had ceased his cries for help, for whenever he opened his mouth he choked and strangled. He heard the welcome words of the king as in a dream, but half unconscious as he was he reached out, and caught the rope, tightened his grip upon it. He discovered the slip-noose at the end, and with his senses fast leaving him had just enough strength left to adjust this under both his arms. When the Brownies felt the rope grow taut they began to haul away with might and main. Around the pit now there were willing minds and itching fingers. Some fell over with their exertions, but in a trice they were up again to contribute all the strength they had to the work. “Pull away, boys!” shouted King Stanislaus encouragingly, with his own royal digits wound tightly around the rope. “A long pull, a strong pull, and a pull all together! That’s the ticket! Hurray! We’ll soon have him up.”
His words incited them so that through undue effort they suddenly lost their balance and sprawled over backward like ten-pins.
Like a shot Dragonfel fell back into the water again, almost dragging after him a half-dozen Brownies who still clung to the rope. But others quickly grasped them by the legs, and prevented them from going over into the pit until a fresh hold of the rope was secured, and another attempt was made.
“Avast there, messmates!” cried the Sailor. “Give an old salt a chance at the fore-clutch on the hawser, and the old pirate will soon come up from the bottom of the sea!”
This time the Brownies were successful, and they pulled Dragonfel to the brink, and rolled him over to a place of temporary safety.
Water poured from his drenched form, and with a groan he relapsed into unconsciousness.
The Brownies looked first at him, and then at each other. Though no one said a word, all had the same thought.