relief to loosen his hold and fall into oblivion.

"When I have made my last effort!" something seemed to whisper to him,
and with it came the thought that if he were merely clinging to the
hazel stems over the side of a road by some woody bank, he would feel
none of this paralysing fear. The task to win to safety would seem easy
then. Why should it not now?

It was the triumph of mind over cowardice and ignorant fear; and rousing
his energies, while there was yet time, he looked about for the means of
safety.

Yes; there it was. He was no nearer the top than when he first made his
attempt at escape. All he had done was to tear the hazel up by the
roots, but it had bent down with it the bough of another stubb, a stout,
tough-looking bough, belonging evidently to a hazel growing farther from
the edge of the shaft. Could he reach that he might better his
position, but the long, tough, thorny brambles that hung down swaying
about were in his way, unless he could make use of them as ropes.

It was for life, and regardless of their cruel thorns he seized two in
one of his hands and made a snatch higher towards the root of the stubb.

Another: clinging with his knees to the branches.

Another: and he had hold of the crumbling, mossy wood, some of which
fell with a quantity of earth.

Another quick, sharp, despairing effort, and--joy! he had seized the
fresh stout branch that had been bent down by the loosened stubb.

Another effort, and he would have been on the edge of the shaft, when
there was a sharp tug behind, and he felt himself arrested by the
brambles that had twisted round one of his legs--a slight tug, but
enough to stop him in his perilous position. The tangle of hazel boughs
to which his legs were clinging came away with a fierce rush, an
avalanche of earth fell, and Philip Hexton was once more swinging to and
fro over the awful pit, listening with closed eyes to the rustle and
rush of the great rooted-up hazel, as it fell into the pit.

CHAPTER SEVEN.

A JOURNEY UNDERGROUND.

Plash!

One horrible, echoing, weird sound that seemed as if it would never
cease to reverberate against the sides of the pit-shaft, and then a
silence so terrible that Philip Hexton felt as if all was over.

He unclosed his eyes for a last look towards heaven, and the blue sky
was above him; the great hazel stubb had made a clearance; a feeling of
hope once more filled his breast. He had hold of a stout, tough boug