Terence and Andy accordingly "slacked away," and Ellerton slid another yard or so towards the brink. He was then able to lower the lantern to Mr. McKay, and at the same time he made the discovery that the shaft was too rugged to allow a man to be hauled up by a rope without serious danger of the rope being chafed through by the sharp projections.
He explained the situation to Mr. McKay, who fully realised the force of his remarks.
"Never mind, we'll manage it right enough," concluded Ellerton cheerily, and giving the word he was hauled back to where his companions stood.
"We must have one of those trees down," he said, pointing to the distant palms.
Accordingly the lads set off for the forest, where without much difficulty a stout trunk, thirty feet in length, was felled. The work of transporting it to the brink of the pit was a more tedious business, and an hour elapsed ere they succeeded in slinging the timber across the yawning gulf, where it rested with about ten feet imbedded in the soft lava on either side of the hole.
"Now you can do this part of the work better than I," said Ellerton to Andy. "Lash this block to the centre of the trunk, and reeve a rope through it."
This Andy managed to do. He also lashed a smaller piece of timber at a distance of about four feet below the tree-trunk, so as to form a platform to enable Mr. McKay to obtain a clear spring when hauled up as far as the pulley would permit.
"All ready, pater?" asked the son.
"Wait a moment, Andy. Could you manage to come down here, do you think?"
"I'll try. I say, you fellows, I'm going down, so pay out the rope."