“Can you wait while I bind it?” she said, anxiously extending her gaze down to him.
“Yes, if not very long. Hope has given me a wonderful instalment of strength.”
Elfride dropped her eyes again, tore the remaining material into narrow tape-like ligaments, knotted each to each as before, but on a smaller scale, and wound the lengthy string she had thus formed round and round the linen rope, which, without this binding, had a tendency to spread abroad.
“Now,” said Knight, who, watching the proceedings intently, had by this time not only grasped her scheme, but reasoned further on, “I can hold three minutes longer yet. And do you use the time in testing the strength of the knots, one by one.”
She at once obeyed, tested each singly by putting her foot on the rope between each knot, and pulling with her hands. One of the knots slipped.
“Oh, think! It would have broken but for your forethought,” Elfride exclaimed apprehensively.
She retied the two ends. The rope was now firm in every part.
“When you have let it down,” said Knight, already resuming his position of ruling power, “go back from the edge of the slope, and over the bank as far as the rope will allow you. Then lean down, and hold the end with both hands.”
He had first thought of a safer plan for his own deliverance, but it involved the disadvantage of possibly endangering her life.
“I have tied it round my waist,” she cried, “and I will lean directly upon the bank, holding with my hands as well.”