At that moment, sounding faint and distant, there was the report of a rifle; then another, and another, followed by four or five in a volley. "The Boers are attacking," I cried. My heart sank as something seemed to say to me, "Well, if they are, what does it matter to you?" The firing went on, and just then the wick of the lamp, of which a good deal must have been loosened by the fall, began to blaze up famously. I looked around to ascertain if I could get down to help Denham; but it seemed impossible. I saw, however, that I might lower myself a couple of feet farther, and get my heels in a transverse crack in the rock, where I could check myself and perhaps afford some help to a climber. "Look here, Denham," I shouted out as if I had been running, "I can help you if you can climb up here. You must pluck up and try." He muttered, with a low groan: "Don't talk like that, old chap. I've got the pluck, but feel as if I haven't got the power. If I stir I shall go down into that awful pool, and then--Oh dear, it's very horrible to die like a rat in a flooded hole!" "Hold your tongue, you idiot!" I shouted, in a rage. "Who's going to die? Look here; I can't get down to you, so I must climb out and fetch help. I'll go if you'll swear you'll sit fast and be patient, even if the light goes out." There was no answer. "Denham, old fellow, do you hear me?" I cried, with a thrill of horror running through me as I imagined he had fainted, and that the next moment I should hear a sullen splash. "Yes, I hear you," he said. "I'll try. It's all right. But why don't you shout?" "No one could hear me, even if that firing was not going on," I said. Looking upwards, I felt that the only chance was to try; but I was almost certain that I should slip, fall, and most likely carry my poor friend with me. The flickering light made the rocks above appear as if in motion; and, as I stared up wildly, the various projections looked as if a touch would send them rushing down. Then I uttered a gasp and tried to shout, but my voice failed. Was I deceiving myself? Almost within reach was a rope hanging down, close to the wall of the shaft on my right. Then I could speak again. "Hurrah!" I shouted. "Here's help, Denham. Hold on; some one's letting down a rope. Ahoy, there! swing it more into the middle." Echoes were the only answer. Almost in despair, I crept sideways, and made a frantic dash just as I felt I was slipping, and a stone gave way beneath my feet. There I hung, flat upon the rock, listening to a couple of heavy splashes, but with the rope tight in my grasp as if my fingers had suddenly become of steel. I could not speak again for a few minutes; but at last, as the echoes of the splashes died out, the words came: "All right, Denham?" A horrible pause followed; then, with a gasp: "Yes--all right--yes--I thought it was all over then." CHAPTER THIRTY SIX. THE USE OF MUSCLES.