Hugh made the rope fast under his armpits, and gave the old mining cry, "On top there, haul away." Heavily the windlass creaked.

Mightily the Chinee strained.

The unconscious figure was drawn out of the water and up the shaft, inch by inch.

The weight of a man in wet clothes is considerably more than that of a bucket of water, and it seemed a certainty that either the old windlass would break or the Chinaman's arms give out.

Slowly, slowly, the limp wet figure ascended the shaft, while Hugh supported himself in the water, by gripping the logs at the side of the well, praying that the tackle would hold.