Tom's
strength was going fast. "O Tom, Tom, what must be done? I can't--I
can't hold on but a little longer, and we shall be both dashed to
pieces. My poor boy?"

"Well, then, I'll let go, father; it was all my folly, and I'll be the
sufferer."

"Let go!" cried old Tom; "no, no, Tom--don't let go, my boy; I'll try a
little longer. Don't let go, my dear boy--don't let go!"

"Well, father, how much longer can you hold on?"

"A little--very little longer," replied the old man, struggling. "Well,
hold fast now," cried young Tom, who, raising his head above his arms,
with great exertion shifted one of his hands to his father's thigh, then
the other; raising himself as before, he then caught at the seat of his
father's trousers with his teeth; old Tom groaned, for his son had taken
hold of more than the garments; he then shifted his hands round his
father's body--from thence he gained the collar of his jacket--from the
collar he climbed on his father's shoulders, from thence he seized hold
of the fall above, and relieved his father of the weight. "Now, father,
are you all right?" cried Tom, panting as he clung to the fall above
him.

"I can't hold on ten seconds more, Tom--no longer--my clutch is going
now."

"Hang on by your eyelids, father, if you love me," cried young Tom, in
agony.

It was indeed an awful moment; they were now at least sixty feet above
the lighter, suspended in the air; the men whirled round the wheel, and
I had at last the pleasure of hauling them both in on the floor of the
warehouse; the old man so exhausted that he could not speak for more
than a minute. Young Tom, as soon as all was safe, laughed
immoderately. Old Tom sat upright. "It might have been no laughing
matter, Mr Tom," said he, looking at his son.

"What's done can't be helped, father, as Jacob says. After all, you're
more frightened than hurt."

"I don't know that, you young scamp," replied the old man, putting his
hand behind him, and rubbing softly; "you've bit a piece clean out of my
_starn_. Now, let this be a warning to you, Tom. Jacob, my boy,
couldn't you say that I've met with an _accident_, and get a drop of
something from Mr Drummond?"

I thought, after his last observation, I might honestly say that he had
met with an accident, and I soon returned with a glass of brandy, which
old Tom was drinking off when his son interrupted him for a share.

"You know, father, I shared the danger."

"Yes, Tom, I kn