an I forgot that for the moment, so I did,” said Pat, dejectedly.
“Strange we didn’t notice that the beam was rotten,” said Bart, mournfully. “It looked sound enough.”
“It looked as sound as a nut, so it did; and how it managed to howld on till I jarked it bates me intirely, so it does.”
“It must have been sagging down and cracking all the time. The only wonder is, that it didn’t give way when we were higher up. If it had, there’d have been an end of us.”
“Sure ’n you niver spoke a truer word in your life, so you didn’t; an, be the same token, it’s a good sign, so it is, an a fine thing intirely, that we’re down here now at this blissid minute, wid our bones not broke to smithereens. Sure but it makes me fairly shiver whin I think of you an me, one after the other, hangin away up there from that bit of rotten stick that was broken all the time.”
“If this wasn’t quite so wide,” said Bart, “we might stretch our legs across, and get up that way. I’ve seen men go down into wells as easy as you please, just by stretching their legs across.”
“Sure an meself it is that’s seen that same,” said Pat, briskly; “an I wondher whether, afther all, our legs mightn’t be long enough to do it.”
“O, no,” said Bart; “it’s too wide altogether.”
“Sure an we might then; an there’s nothin like tryin.”
With these words Pat set himself to try, and Bart did the same. They tried by stretching their legs as far as possible on each side to secure a foothold, and thus ascend. Had the pit been narrower, or had their legs been longer, they could have done it; but, as it was, they found it quite impossible. “They could, indeed, touch the beams on either side if they stretched their legs as far apart as possible; but, having accomplished this, they could do no more. They could not raise their feet higher to the log above. So rigid were their legs when thus spread apart, that they could not raise them. At length they were compelled to desist from these efforts.
“It’s too wide intirely, so it is,” said Pat, dolefully. “An whativer was the use of makin the hole so wide is beyond me. It wasn’t any use at all at all, so it wasn’t; an there you have it.”
“The fault’s in our legs as much as in the pit,” said Bart. “If we were five years older we might do it.”
“Sure I always thought I cud climb betther thin any man till this blissid momint,” said Pat.
“I only wish I was a man for about five minutes,” said Bart, fervently.
“Two minutes’d jist do it, so it wad,” said Pat.
“Yes,” said Bart.
“An these logs don’t go all the way up. If we cud only get up to the planks we’d be all right.”
“I didn’t notice particularly,” said Bart, “but it seems to me that the plank staying reaches nearly halfway down.”
“Full that, ivery inch of it, so it does,” said Pat.
“If we could only get up as far as that!” exclaimed Bart.
“Faith, I have it,” said Pat, suddenly.
“What?” asked Bart, with some excitement.
“I have it,” repeated Pat. “It’s a rope we want.”
“A rope!” exclaimed Bart.
“Yis, a bit of a rope; ony we haven’t got one long enough.”
“Why, what good would a rope be to us here?” asked Bart, in a puzzle to know what in the world Pat had got into his head.
“Sure, I have it. Can’t we twist a rope an make this longer?”
“I don’t know what you’re after,” said Bart, impatiently. “What do you mean?”
“Sure an we can tear up our coats an shirts, an make a rope that way; ony,” he added, thoughtfully, “it mightn’t be long enough, so it mightn’t.”
“Nonsense,” said Bart; “you’re crazy. What do we want of a rope?”
“Sure, to climb with.
“How? Where would you fasten it?”
“Fasten it, is it?” said Pat, in a dubious tone; “sure that same I niver thought of at all at all. I forgot all about it, so I did.”
“Well, we’ll have to do something,” said Bart. “We can’t stand still here and die.”
“There’s the bit of a pick here,” said Pat. “Sure an we ought to be able to do somethin with the pick, so we ought.”
And with these words he stooped and lifted up the pickaxe which he had thrown in before they went down, and which, in the anguish and excitement which they had thus far felt, had been altogether forgotten.
“We ought to do something with that,” said Bart.
“It won’t do any good to more thin one of us,” said Pat, sadly, “for only one of us can use it at a time.”
“Nonsense,” said Bart; “if one of us can only climb up, can’t he help the other?”
“Sure an so he can,” said Pat; “an I niver thought of that, so I didn’t.”
“I wonder if we can climb with that?” said Bart.
“Sure an we can try,” said Pat; “an we ought to do somethin, so we ought.”
With these words, he thrust the pick between two timbers, a few feet above his head, and then clutching it, he raised himself up to a level with the pick, in the easiest way possible. Hanging there for a moment, with his hands grasping the pick, and his feet stuck tight between the logs, he tried to raise himself higher. To do this, it was necessary to hold himself there, while removing the pick, and raising it to the logs farther up. But here was the fatal and insuperable difficulty; and this brought them exactly back to where they were before. Do what he would, his hands could not grasp the round logs with sufficient firmness to maintain a hold. After a few efforts he gave it up, and jumped down.
Bart then tried, making his attempt at the corner of the pit, where the angle of the two sides favored him more. Striking the pick in between two logs, as high up as he could reach, he raised himself up as Pat had done, and then tried to lift himself higher. He found a place which he could grasp, and clinging to this with a convulsive effort, he raised the pick to the logs farther up, and succeeded in thrusting it into a new place. Then he drew himself up higher, and once more searched about for a place to grasp. But now no place could be found. In vain he tried to thrust his fingers between the logs; in vain he sought to grasp the round surface. It was a thing that could not be done. After a long but fruitless effort, Bart was compelled to give up. Yet he was not satisfied. He tried the other three corners of the pit in succession. In all of them his efforts met with the same result—failure, utter and hopeless.
At length he flung down the pick, and stood panting.
“Deed, thin, an I’m glad to see you back, so I am,” said Pat.
“Glad!” said Bart.
“Yis, glad I am; that same’s what I mane. I’d rather have you fail down here, than half way up. You niver cud go all the way; an if you had to turrun back when half way up, it’s a sore head I’d have watchin you; an you cud niver expict to git back here again without broken bones.”
“If we only had one other pickaxe,” said Bart, “I could do it.”
“Of coorse you cud; an if we had dizens of other thing, you cud do it, so you cud, an so cud I; but there’s the throuble, an that’s what we’ve got to contind against, so it is.”
“We’ll have to do something,” said Bart, gloomily and desperately.
“Sure