p. I've got
you as tight as tight. Now then, can't you feel how safe you are? Off
with you! I shall always be ready to give you a nip and hold you on.
Now then, off!"

But there was no response.

"Do you hear! This isn't the place to go to sleep, Joe! Wake up! Go
on! Never mind your feet being numb. Go on pulling yourself up with
your hands. I'll give you a shove to help."

No reply; no movement; and but for the spasmodic way in which the boy
clung with his hands, as if involuntarily, like a bird or a bat clings
in its sleep, he might have been pronounced perfectly helpless.

"Now, once more, are you going to begin?" cried Gwyn, shouting fiercely.
"Do you hear?"

Still no reply, and in spite of appeal, threat, and at last a blow
delivered heavily upon his shoulder, Joe did not stir, and Gwyn felt
that their case was desperate indeed. Each time he had forced his
companion to make an effort it was as if the result was due to the
energy he had communicated from his own body; but now he felt in his
despair as if a reverse action were taking place, and his companion's
want of nerve and inertia were being communicated to him; for the chilly
feeling of despair was on the increase, and he knew now that poor Joe
was beyond helping himself.

"What can I do?" he thought, as he once more forced himself to the point
of thinking and acting. To get his companion up by his own force was
impossible. Even if he could have carried the weight up the ladder, it
would have been impossible to get a good hold and retain it, and he
already felt himself growing weak from horror.

What to do?

It would have been easy enough to climb over his companion and save his
own life; but how could he ever look Major Jollivet or his father in the
eyes again? The momentary thought was dismissed on the instant as being
cowardly and unworthy of an English lad. But what to do?

If he could have left him for a few minutes, he could have either gone
up or gone down, and shouted for help; but he knew perfectly well that
the moment he left the boy to himself, he would fall headlong.

"What shall I do? What shall I do?" he groaned aloud, and a querulous
cry from one of the gulls still floating around them came as if in
reply.

"Oh, if I only had a gun," he cried angrily. "Get out, you beasts!
Who's going to fall!"

Then he uttered a cry for help, and another, and another; but the shouts
sounded feeble, and were lost in space, while m