Part 46 (2/2)

”Yes.”

”Draw steadily hand over hand, till we can get the rope over the edge.

Then throw your axe back, and take hold of the rope.”

”Yes, I understand.”

”Now, Melchior, we are going to haul.”

There was no reply beyond what sounded like a groan; and the pair at the edge of the creva.s.se began to tighten the rope gently as they drew up their axes, with the weight gradually increasing; they saw by the light of the lanthorn that they first dragged the poor fellow up into a sitting position; and not having the full burden to deal with yet, Dale got a shorter hold of the axe handle, Saxe doing the same.

”Steady, steady: don't hurry, boy. It is these first moments that possess the danger. Once we have the rope I don't mind.”

They hauled again hand over hand literally: for in their cribbed position they could do no more than just pa.s.s one hand over the other; but they were gaining ground, and even yet they had not the full weight, for fortunately as they hauled they could see the body swing round against the ice wall, and that Melchior's feet were on the dimly visible ledge.

”Now, Saxe, we have his whole weight coming; so as the strain falls, quick with him, one, two, three, and we shall have the rope. Once I can get that between us on to the edge, we shall have a lot of the drag off our arms. Now--one, two, three!”

How it was done they could neither of them afterwards have fully explained; but Saxe had some recollection of tugging at his ice handle in answer to those words of command till he touched the head with one hand, pa.s.sed his other under it, and had hold of the rope.

”Now your axe!” shouted Dale; and Saxe unhooked it, and flung it behind him with a clang, as at the same time it felt to him as if his chest were being drawn slowly over the slippery ice, and that he was moving surely on into the gulf.

The perspiration stood out in great drops upon his face, his grasp of the rope grew more feeble, and the feeling of self-preservation was thrilling him, when suddenly there was a tremendous reaction; he drew a long breath, and was hauling with renewed strength.

It was all nearly momentary, and the reaction came as the boy felt his toes glide into one of the great notches he had cut in the ice.

”Steady, steady,” panted Dale. ”Oh, if I only had some purchase! Pull, and never mind the skin; get the rope over the edge. Hurrah!”

The rope was over the edge, and just between them, and but for the fact that Dale was able to get the head of his axe beneath his chest, and press it down on the ice, it would have glided back once more.

”Now, Saxe,” he cried, ”I can hold him like this for a few moments: the edge helps. Step back and take a grip of the axe handle.”

Saxe obeyed, drawing the handle tight, and getting his boot toes in another of the notches.

”Now,” cried Dale, ”hold on with all your might while I shuffle back.”

”Are you going to leave go?” growled Saxe.

”No.”

That negative came like the roar of a wild beast.

”Got him tight,” cried Saxe; and he set his teeth and shut his eyes, while, holding on with one hand, Dale shuffled himself back as far as he could--that is, to the full extent of his arms and the foot of rope he had dragged over the edge of the ice.

Then he paused for a moment or two.

”Now I want to get rope enough in for you to take hold.”

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