“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.