Part 47 (1/2)

”Will the ice edge cut?”

”No: the rope will cut down a smooth channel in the ice. Ready?-- Together.”

There was a brief interval of hauling, and several feet were drawn over, so that Saxe was able to get hold of the rope too; and they rested again, for in that position everything depended on their arms.

”Now I have him,” cried Dale. ”Hold on with one hand while you reach your axe, and anchor it in the hole you made.”

”Done,” cried Saxe.

”Haul again.”

They hauled, and another foot or so was gained.

”Now hitch the rope well round the axe handle,” cried Dale, ”and get it tight.”

This was done; the rope being twisted above the band of leather placed to keep the hand from slipping; and with this to take off the stress, Dale was able, while well holding on, to get to his knees, and then to his feet, when, planting his heels in one of the grooves cut in the ice, he took a fresh grip of the rope.

”Now, Saxe,” he cried; ”up with you! Behind me!”

The lad grasped the position, and leaped up and seized the rope behind Dale.

”Now, then!--a steady haul together!”

The battle seemed to be nearly won, for the rope glided on steadily over the ice, cutting pretty deeply the while, but after the first few seconds apparently without friction.

Foot by foot, a steady pull, till there was a sudden check.

”Hah!” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Dale. ”I see. We are at the end of the new rope, and the knot has caught in the groove we've made. I can hold him, Saxe.

Take your axe, and pick the ice away on one side. Mind! you must not touch the rope.”

Saxe took his axe, and a few strokes with the pointed end broke off a good-sized piece. The knot glided over, and the next minute, with the same idea inspiring both, they began to haul up Melchior's rope.

Will this last out, and not be broken by the friction?

Foot by foot--foot by foot--till at any moment they felt they would see the man's hand appear; and all seemed to depend now upon the state in which the poor fellow would be in when he reached the surface. If he were perfectly helpless, the worst part, perhaps, of their task would come. If he could aid, it would be comparatively easy.

At last there was a faint glow of light behind the edge, which grew plainer in the gloom in which they had been working, and directly after Melchior's hand reached the edge.

Dale was a man of resource, and he was about to call upon Saxe to hitch the rope round the axe handle once more--that which acted as an anchor-- when he saw in the faint glow that the fingers clutched at the edge.

”Haul! haul!” he cried; and as they pulled the whole arm appeared above the edge, and was stretched flat on the ice. And the next moment, with a dash, the guide's axe was swung over the edge, and the sharp point dug down into the glistening surface, giving the poor fellow a slight hold, which, little as it was, proved some help.

It has been said that Dale was a man of resource, and he proved it more than ever now.

”I can hold him,” he cried. ”Take the rope, and lower down a big loop right over his head. That's right: lower away.” Then, as Saxe responded quickly, he cried to the guide, ”Try if you can get one or both your legs through the loop.”

There was a little sc.r.a.ping and movement before the poor fellow said, hoa.r.s.ely--

”Through.”