birds to the Stack in clamouring crowds.

Meanwhile Harry said, "Undo that rope, Yaspard. _I_ will go down this
time. I can probably be of more use to him than you. You can follow
with those things when the chaps return. And look you, Lowrie, be
canny in lowering him, and in your management of the rope. See that
the youngsters are careful; for Yaspard and I will send Tom up first if
possible. You know what to do with the tar and sticks, Yaspard?"

"Make a torch?"

"Yes; and we shall want the bag and rope to make a sort of hammock for
Tom. Now send me below. But first--your handkerchiefs, boys."

He stuffed the collection of grimy "wipes" (as the lads styled their
pocket-handkerchiefs) in his pocket, and was carefully lowered into the
dismal cavern where poor Tom lay.

[1] Sea-caves.

CHAPTER XXX.

"SWEET SIGHT FOR ME THOU TWAIN TO SIT EYES ON."

"Tom! Tom!" Harry had groped his way to Tom's head, had lifted it on
his arm, and felt the warm blood welling from a deep cut on the
forehead, "Tom, can you not understand?" he said; but Tom made no
reply. He was breathing heavily and quite unconscious.

Dr. Holtum had given the Lunda boys many a useful lesson in ambulance
surgery, and no one had benefited more from his teaching than Harry
Mitchell. With care, and as much precision as was possible without the
aid of sight, he bound Tom's head in bandages formed from the
handkerchiefs provided, and had the satisfaction of finding that the
wound was staunched and the pulse beating a little stronger before many
minutes had passed.

He could not, of course, ascertain what other injuries had been
inflicted, but he moved Tom's arms and legs gently, and felt satisfied
that _their_ bones had escaped.

The time seemed very long to Harry down there, and to the others
waiting above. At last Yaspard could keep silence no longer, so
leaning over, he shouted, "Is he--any better? Can't you sing out
something to us, Harry?"

"I have been able to do a little, and I think Tom is reviving," was the
cheering news Harry sang out in reply.

Tom really was coming round, and the first sign he made was a groan,
and then a murmured "Time to get up, did you say?"

"Oh, Tom," Harry cried, bending close to the wounded head on his arm,
and shedding some tears that were not an unmanly sign of gladness at
hearing Tom's voice once more; "Tom, old chap, I'm as sorry as can be
for giving you the rough side of my tongue ma