"I've fastened my handkerchief to the stump of a bush."

"That's right."

"I say!"

"Well?"

"How shall we get Mr Manners up when they do come?"

"Push and pull," said Will.

"But he's awfully heavy."

"Oh, I know; but we shall manage. I say, I wonder where his paint-box and things are. Perhaps they all went down with him."

"Not they," said Josh, as his foot kicked against something. "They are all up here. I've got them. Isn't he awake yet?"

"No--yes--I say, Mr Manners, are you better?"

"I--Where am I?--Oh, yes, I remember. Better? I think so. What are you doing here?"

"Came to find you, and--"

From above there came a shout.

"Hallo!" said Will. "That's Josh found then."

CHAPTER SEVEN.

THE RESCUE.

"That you, boys?" came from somewhere far above, out of the darkness, and it was Josh who answered, while Will said in a low tone:

"I say, Mr Manners, I am glad. Now don't you think you could get up?

It's father and Mr Carlile."

The artist made a brave attempt.

"I could stand on one leg," he said, "but that's about all I'm good for.

My ankle gives way at once."

"Then we must just wait," said Will. "That's the only thing to do. It was my father who called. Say, Josh!"

"Hallo!"

"That you, my boy?" came from above.

"Yes, father."

"I must sit down again," said the artist, in a low tone, for he had been standing supporting himself against the wall of the ledge.

"No, sir," said Drinkwater, as he flashed his lantern round. "If Mr Manners has hurt himself and can't walk, as Mr Josh says he has, we shan't be able to haul him up. The rope I brought wouldn't do it; and besides, we should have no purchase here."

"Then what are we to do?" said Mr Willows, impatiently. "Tell me what you advise."

"There's another way down," said the man, st.u.r.dily. "We couldn't pull him up there. I know the place he's on. We can get to it if we go along here; there's a zig-zag path."

"Capital!" said the mill-owner. "Come along."

The path the man referred to was a roundabout one, but it led them to the place where the artist lay.

"It's a good job we came, sir," said Mr Willows. "Not a nice place to spend the night in. You fell down here?"

"Yes," said the artist; "unfortunately."

"Humph!" said the mill-owner. "Now we have got to get you up."

"What a pity he's such a heavy-weight," said Will to Josh, in a whisper.

"Drinkwater has found a special way down here. You will have to lean on two of us and manage it somehow. Mr Carlile, take the lantern, will you, please? Now, Drinkwater, get hold of Mr Manners' other arm."

"Right, master."

"Do you think you can do it?" said Mr Willows.

"Don't know," said the artist; "but I will try."

"That's the style," said the mill-owner. "There, lean heavily on me.

You, Drinkwater, get firm hold of his other arm. Slowly does it!" And the little procession started.

"It took me a long while to get here," said the artist, "but as for getting back--"

"Don't you worry about that," said the Vicar. "We shall manage all right, never fear."

It was after about an hour that the Vicar went up to Mr Willows.

"Now let me have a turn, Drinkwater," he said.

"We are getting along so well that I think we had better not change,"

said the mill-owner.

Mr Carlile nodded.

"Remember," he said, "that I am ready to act as relief directly I am needed."

"I'll remember that," said Mr Willows. "Here, Will, what are you doing?"