h groped
awkwardly and blindly for the rope as it swung to and fro all around it.
Finally, he seized it, but ran imminent risk of falling as he drew it
under his body. At length he seemed to have it secured; but in his hurry
and trepidation he had fastened it considerably nearer his hips than his
arms. The result, when the rebels above began to haul, can be imagined.
Hips and heels were hoisted, while arms and head hung down, causing him
to resemble very strikingly a frog hooked on for bait at the end of a
fish-line. The affrighted face drawn out of its hole, looked down
ridiculously hideous into the rocky and bristling gulf over which he
swung.

"Fire!" said Captain Grudd.

The volley was aimed, not at Silas, but at those who were hauling him
up. Cudjo shrieked with frantic joy, expecting to see his old enemy
plunge head foremost among the stones on the bank of the stream. Such,
no doubt, would have been the result, but for one sturdy and brave
fellow at the rope. The rest, struck either with bullets or terror, fell
back, loosing their hold. But this man clung fast, imperturbable. Alone,
slowly, hand over hand, he hauled and hauled; grim, unterrified,
faithful. But it was a tedious and laborious task for one, even the
stoutest. The man had but a precarious foothold, and the rope rubbed
hard on the edge of the cliff. Cudjo shrieked again, this time with
despair at seeing his former overseer about to escape.

"That's a plucky fellow!" said Stackridge, with stern admiration of the
soldier's courage. "I like his grit; but he must stop that!"

He reached for a loaded gun. He took Carl's. The boy turned pale, but
said never a word, setting his lips firmly as he looked up at the cliff.
Silas was swinging. The soldier was pulling in the rope, hitch by hitch,
over the ledge. Stackridge took deliberate aim, and fired.

For a moment no very surprising effect was perceptible, only the man
stopped hauling. Then he went down on one knee, paying out several
inches of the rope, and letting the suspended Silas dip accordingly. It
became evident that he was hit; he still grasped the rope, but it began
to glide through his hands. Silas set up a howl.

"Hold me! hold me!"--at the same time extending all his fingers to grasp
the rocks.

The brave fellow made one last effort, and took a turn of the rope about
his wrist. It did not slip through his hands any more. But soon _he_
began to slip--forward--forward--on both knees now--his