an, and the splash and roar of
the fallen stone also came rushing out of the mouth.

"Do?" cried Joe, hysterically; "try and save him."

"But you can't do it that way, boy," panted the man, whose voice sounded
as if he had been running till he was breathless.

"I must--I must!" cried Joe, struggling to get free. "Oh, Gwyn, Gwyn,
Gwyn!"

"Hold still, will you?" bawled Hardock. "Chucking yourself down won't
save him."

"Then let me down by the rope."

"Nay; it's parted once, and you'd be drowned too."

"I don't care! I don't care!" cried Joe, wildly. "I must go down to
him. Let go, will you?" and he struggled fiercely to get free.

But the man's strength was double his, and he tore the boy from the
wall, threw him down on his back, and placed a foot on his breast to
hold him as he rapidly ran out the rest of the rope, till only about a
yard remained, and then he released him.

"Now, you keep quiet," he growled. "You're mad--that's what you are!"

Joe rose to his feet, awed by the man's manner, and grasping now the
fact that he was about to take the only steps that seemed available to
save his companion.

For Hardock hurried to the other side of the opening, where the wall had
been built close to the edge, and there was no space between, so that he
could, in leaning over the wall, gaze straight down the shaft.

And then he began jerking the rope; and as he did so they could faintly
hear indications of its touching the water far below.

"D'yer hear, there?" he shouted. "Lay holt o' the rope. Can't you see
it?"

As he spoke, he jerked the stout line and sent a wave along it, making
it splash in the water far below; but the faint, whispering and smacking
sounds were all the answer, and Joe burst out with a piteous cry,--

"He's drowned! he's drowned! Or he's holding on somewhere waiting for
me to go down and save him. Pull up the rope, quick! No; fasten it,
and I'll slide down."

"Nay, nay; you keep quiet," growled the man, whose face was now of a
sickly pallor. "How'm I to hear what he says, if you keep on making
that row?"

"What--he says?" faltered Joe. "Then you can hear him shout?"

"You be quiet. Ahoy! Below there! Ketch holt o' the rope. None o'
your games to frighten us. I know. Now, then, ketch holt and make it
fast round yer."

Joe stood there with his face ghastly, and his eyes starting, as, with
his hands behind his ears, he strained to catch the faintest sound which
cam