"He doesn't answer--he is dead!" sobbed Wally, and threw herself in despair upon the earth. "Now all is over!"
"Perhaps he's lost his senses, or is too weak to answer," said old Klettenmaier consolingly, then whispered in her ear. "Mistress, think of all the people."
She raised herself and pushed her disordered hair off her forehead. "Tie the ropes together; don't stand there doing nothing--what are you waiting for?" The men looked at her doubtingly. "We must at least try if he's not to be found," said Klettenmaier.
The men shook their heads, but began to fasten the cords together. "Who will let himself down by the rope?" they said.
"Who?" said Wally. Her black eyes flashed out of her pale face. "I will!" she said.
"Thou, Wally--thou's out of thy senses--the rope will scarce bear one, much less two."
"It need bear only one," said Wally gloomily, and seized the rope that it might be done quicker.
"It's impossible, Wally--thou'll have to tie thyself and him to it to come up again," said the men, dropping their arms helplessly; "the only thing to do is to send into the villages, and collect more ropes--"
"And meanwhile he'll fall to the bottom if he's lost his senses, and all will be too late," cried Wally desperately. "I'll not wait till more comes--give it me here--unwind the rope, and see how long it is--go on--unwind!" She shook out the coils of rope, and tried its length and strength; involuntarily the men took hold of it again, they unwound the huge coil, the preparations began to take shape and order. The men stepped out to make a chain. "It may reach far enough, but it'll never bear two."
"If it won't bear two, I'll send him up alone. Where he has room to lie, I shall have room to stand. As soon as I've found a footing, I'll untie myself, and tie the rope round him; then draw him up, and I can wait till the rope comes down again--"