raised it,
bending forward now, so as to look over Joe's shoulder to see where to
cut.

His intention was to thrust the point in between the silken cord and the
boy's wrists; but he found it impossible without having both hands, and
there was nothing for it but to saw right down.

This he began to do just beneath the knots, hoping that the last part
would yield before the knife could touch the boy's skin.

"Take care, my lad," growled Hardock.

"Yes; I'm trying not to cut him," panted Gwyn.

"Nay, I mean when you're through. Hold tight yourself."

"Yes, I'll try."

"Tell 'em to make the rope quite taut."

"Haul and hold fast," cried Gwyn.

"Right!" came promptly from above, and a heavy strain was felt.

"I--tied it--so tight," muttered Gwyn, as he sawed away.

"Ay, and his weight. Steady, my lad, steady!"

"Hah! that's through," cried Gwyn. "Be ready to haul."

"Right!" came from above.

"Shall I get lower?" said Hardock.

"Yes!--No! The other knot holds him," panted Gwyn; and he had to begin
cutting again; but this time he found that by laying the blade of the
knife flat against the spell, he could force the point beneath the
handkerchief. "Now, steady, Sam," he said, "I'm going to have one big
cut, and then hold on."

"All right, my lad. I'll support you all I can, but you must hold
tight."

The strain on the rope was firm and steady, as Gwyn drew a deep breath,
forced the knife point steadily through beneath the silk, raised the
edge of the blade a little more and a little more, and then, in an agony
of despair, just as he was about to give one bold thrust, he let go, and
snatched at the ladder side.

For all at once there was a sharp, scraping sound. The silk, which had
been strained like a fiddle-string over a bridge, parted on the edge of
the keen knife, and, as Joe's arms dropped quite nerveless and inert,
down went the knife, and Gwyn felt that he was going after.

For in those brief moments he seemed to be falling fast.

But he was not moving; it was Joe being drawn upward, and the next
minute Gwyn was clinging with his breast now on the spells of the
ladder, against which he was being pressed, Hardock, with a rapid
movement, having forced himself up so as to occupy the same position as
Gwyn had so lately held with respect to Joe.

"He's all right--if your knots hold," said Hardock, softly. "How is it
with you, my lad?"

"Out of breath, that's all. I can't look, though, now