Can't we contrive to make the pony pull the boy up ?" "The traces are hardly strong enough for such work, Sir Wycherly.

Have a little patience, and I will manage the whole thing, 'ship-shape, and Brister fashion,' as we say at sea.

Halloo there, Master Wychecombe--answer my hail, and I will soon get you into deep water." "I'm safe on the ledge," returned the voice of Wychecombe, from below; "I wish you would look to the signal-halyards, and see they do not chafe against the rocks, Mr.Dutton." "All right, sir; all right.

Slack up, if you please, and let me have all the line you can, without casting off from your body.

Keep fast the end for fear of accidents." In an instant the halyards slackened, and Dutton, who by this time had gained his self-command, though still weak and unnerved by the habits of the last fifteen years, forced the bight along the edge of the cliff, until he had brought it over a projection of the rocks, where it fastened itself.