fall, and most likely carry my poor
friend with me. The flickering light made the rocks above appear as if
in motion; and, as I stared up wildly, the various projections looked as
if a touch would send them rushing down. Then I uttered a gasp and
tried to shout, but my voice failed. Was I deceiving myself? Almost
within reach was a rope hanging down, close to the wall of the shaft on
my right. Then I could speak again.

"Hurrah!" I shouted. "Here's help, Denham. Hold on; some one's
letting down a rope. Ahoy, there! swing it more into the middle."

Echoes were the only answer. Almost in despair, I crept sideways, and
made a frantic dash just as I felt I was slipping, and a stone gave way
beneath my feet. There I hung, flat upon the rock, listening to a
couple of heavy splashes, but with the rope tight in my grasp as if my
fingers had suddenly become of steel. I could not speak again for a few
minutes; but at last, as the echoes of the splashes died out, the words
came:

"All right, Denham?" A horrible pause followed; then, with a gasp:

"Yes--all right--yes--I thought it was all over then."

CHAPTER THIRTY SIX.

THE USE OF MUSCLES.

Some one wrote, "Circumstances alter cases." Everybody knows how true
that is, and how often we have illustrations in our own lives. Here is
one: to catch hold of a rope after jumping to it is wonderfully easy,
and in our young days the sensation of swinging to and fro in a sort of
bird-like flight through the air is delightful--that is to say, if the
ground is so near that we can drop on our feet at any moment; there is
no thought of danger as we feel perfect confidence in our power to hold
on. It is a gymnastic exercise. But change the scene: be hanging at
the end of the same rope, with the knowledge that a friend and comrade
is in deadly peril, and that, though resting against a rocky slope which
gives you foothold and relieves the strain on your muscles, there is
beneath you a horrible chasm full of black water, hidden by the
darkness, but lapping and whispering as if waiting to receive the
unfortunate. It is then that the nerves weaken and begin to communicate
with and paralyse the muscles, unless there is sufficient strength of
mind to counteract the horror, setting fear at defiance.

The best thing under these circumstances is to get the body to work, and
make brain take the second place. In other words, act and don't think.

I must confess that my end