Part 39 (1/2)

The ledge on which they sat was narrow and slanting, and the wind, s.h.i.+fting gradually to the west, began to get round them menacingly, and cause them now and then to grip at the stones while some specially furious gust blew past. Add to that, Percy's arm was probably broken, and, despite a makes.h.i.+ft bandage and sling, adjusted at imminent peril of being swept away in the operation, increasingly painful. The mist wrapped them like a winding-sheet, and froze as it fell.

”How long will Julius take getting down?” asked the boy.

”Not long,” said Jeffreys, with a shudder, not wholly caused by the cold.

”An hour? He could bring them up in three hours, couldn't he?”

”Less, perhaps. We can hold out for three hours.”

”Jeff, old fellow, do go; what _is_ the use of you staying?”

”Harder work for the wind to lift two of us than one. It can't last long, I'm certain; it's chopping already.”

They relapsed into silence, and listened to the storm as it dashed on the cliffs above them.

A quarter of an hour pa.s.sed. Then Jeffreys felt the boy's head drop on his shoulder.

”Percy, old man, no sleeping,” said he, raising his head.

”I'm not sleeping; only wondering where Julius is.”

But his voice was drowsy, and the words drawled out slowly and dreamily.

”Perhaps he's down the lower zigzag now,” said Jeffreys, giving his companion a shake, under pretext of readjusting the wraps.

”I guess he'll go to Raby first,” said Percy. ”Won't she be scared?”

”She will probably go to your father, and he'll get Appleby and Kennedy and some of the men, and they'll--Percy! hold up your head!”

”Scarfe would like to get engaged to Raby, but she would sooner--”

”Percy, old man, you're talking rubbish. Unless you sit up and keep awake we shall both come to grief.”

”I'll try,” said the boy, ”but I don't know how.”

”Tell me something about your year at Rugby. I want to hear about it so much. What form were you in?”

Then followed a desperate half-hour of cross-examination, Jeffreys coming down with a question at the slightest symptom of drowsiness, and Percy, with all the cunning of a ”somno-maniac,” taking time to think before each answer, and even s.h.i.+rking a syllable here or there in order to s.n.a.t.c.h a wink.

The daylight slowly faded out of the mist, but still the wind howled and shook them on their narrow perch at every gust. Jeffreys, with dismay, found his limbs growing cramped and stiff, boding ill, unless relief soon came, for the possibility of moving at all.

Surely, though, the wind was abating. The dash overhead sounded a trifle less deafening; and the driving sleet, which an hour ago had struck on their faces, now froze their ears.

Yes, the wind was s.h.i.+fting and falling.

In the half-minute which it took Jeffreys to make this discovery Percy had once more fallen asleep, and it required a shake more prolonged than ever to arouse him.

”What!” said he, as he slowly raised his head, ”are they here? Is father there?”

”No, old boy, but the wind is going down, and we may be able to move soon. Where did you field in that cricket match you were telling me of?”