For a time all went well, but soon Jerry said in a whisper—somehow the dark made him whisper rather than speak aloud—“I can’t touch the roof any more, can you?”,
The steps of his pursuers gained fast upon him, and he continued to perplex himself with vain efforts at escape, till at length, quite exhausted, he sunk on the ground, and endeavoured to resign himself to his fate. He listened with a kind of stern despair, and was surprised to find all silent. On looking round, he perceived by a ray of moonlight, which streamed through a part of the ruin from above, that he was in a sort of vault, which, from the small means he had of judging, he thought was extensive.,
Bob’s perch on the tower was far from comfortable, so he hoped the conference going on below him would last no great length of time. The thin iron rungs of the ladder cut into his legs and his arms had begun to ache from the strain of holding himself in place without making any noise that would give him away. To add to his discomfort, he soon realized that although he could overhear clearly every word that passed between the figures on the ground it would do him no good, as they were talking in Spanish, a language in which Bob remembered Jerry could at least make himself understood. Since his arrival at the dam, the Eastern boy had made some attempt to pick up a working knowledge of it, but his time had been so short that he had not got very far. Therefore, only a word here and there meant anything to him and as these were simple words, they gave no clue to what was being discussed..
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