"I can just touch it with the end of my finger. I am lying down, and
holding on with one hand and my ice-axe. If I could use my axe, I could
pull it down."
"No, no!" shouted Dale. "The rope is all out. Stop: if I give you
another two feet, can you get your arm well through the noose I have
made, and hang on?"
"I will try."
"Come here, Saxe. I am going to lean over the edge and hold the rope
down as far as I can reach. Drive the head of your axe into the hole
you have made, and hold on with one hand; take hold of my ankle with the
other. There will be no strain upon you, but it will give me strength
by holding me in my place."
The axe was driven in to hold like an anchor, and Saxe shuddered as he
held by the handle and took a good grip of Dale by thrusting his fingers
in at the top of his heavy mountaineering boot.
Then Dale shuffled himself as far over the brink as he dared, and
stretched his arms down to their full extent.
"Now: can you do it?"
Another terrible pause.
"No, herr."
Dale groaned, and was wondering whether he could achieve his aim by
drawing up the rope, re-knotting it, and making the noose smaller, but
just then Melchior spoke.
"If I could free my ice-axe, I could hook on to it, herr. I can see the
loop quite plainly, but I dare not stir--I can only move one hand."
"Wait!" cried Dale. "Ice-axe!"
He drew back, hauled up some of the rope, knelt upon it to keep it fast,
and picked up his ice-axe, while Saxe watched him with dilated eyes, as
he made a knot and passed the axe handle through to where the steel head
stopped it like a cross. Then, cutting off more string, he bound the
end of the rope to the handle of his axe, doubly and triply, so that
slipping was impossible.
This took up nearly a foot for the knot; but the handle was nearly four
feet long, so that by this scheme he gained another yard as an addition
to the rope.
"I am at the end of my wits now, Saxe," he said softly; and then, with
grim irony, "There is no need to wet my hands, boy."
"Now, Melchior!" he shouted; "try again!"
He was on his chest as he spoke, with his arms outstretched, holding
tightly by the axe handle.
"Can you reach it?"
Saxe panted, and felt the insides of his hands grow wet and cold as he
held on to his companion and listened for the answer that was terribly
long in coming. The sensation was almost suffocating; he held his
breath, and every nerve and muscle was on the strain for the words which
seemed as if they would never reach his ears.
"Well?" shouted Dale, in a harsh, angry voice, his word sounding like a
snarl.
"Can't quite--can't. Hah! I have it!"
"Hurrah!" burst out Saxe, giving vent in his homely, boyish way to his
excitement.
Then, feeling ashamed of himself, he was silent and listened for every
word.
"Get your arm right through, above the elbow."
"Yes, herr. Right."
"Pull, to tighten it."
"Yes, herr," came back.
"Ready? Sure it cannot slip?"
"It cuts right into my arm: never slip."
"Now, Saxe, I have him, boy; but Heaven knows whether I can get him up,
lying like this. No: it is impossible; I have no strength, and the wood
handle is not like rope."
"Oh!" groaned Saxe.
"If I could get to the rope, you might help me. It is impossible: I
cannot lift him so."
"Can you hold on as you are?" said Saxe huskily.
"Yes; but I could not lift--I have no power."
"I must come too, and get hold of the handle. Will the head come off?"
"Hush! No. It is too new and strong. But you could not get hold to do
any good. There--come and try."
Saxe unhooked his axe from the ice, for an idea had struck him; and,
lying down close to Dale, who uttered a sigh of satisfaction as he
grasped the boy's idea, he lowered down his axe, and hooked the rope
with it just beneath Dale's.
"Good," whispered the latter,--"good. Ready?"
"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 crevasse 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 pass 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, passed 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."
"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!" ejaculated 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 scraping and movement before the poor fellow said,
hoarsely--
"Through."
"Now, Saxe, twist the rope as quickly as you can, so as to get hold."
Saxe twisted the double rope till the loop closed upon the guide's leg;
and then there was a momentary pause.
"Now, ready! When I say haul, try to help us all you can. Haul!"
Saxe had his heel in a groove, and he struggled with all his might,
Melchior aiding him so effectually that, as Dale drew the poor fellow's
arm farther, Saxe was able to raise the leg he held to the level; and
the next moment the guide lay prone on the ice with the lanthorn still
burning, and attached to the waist.
"Both together again!" cried Dale hoarsely; and they dragged him a few
yards along the ice perfectly helpless, for he had exhausted himself in
that last effort to reach the surface.
"Take--off--that--that light!" said Dale, in a strange tone of voice;
and then, before Saxe could run to his assistance, he staggered toward
the crevasse and fell heavily.
The boy's heart was in his mouth. For the moment it had seemed as if
Dale were going headlong down, but he lay a good two feet from the edge,
a distance which Saxe increased by drawing him over the ice; and then,
himself utterly exhausted, he sank upon his knees helpless as a child,
the ice glimmering in a peculiarly weird and ghastly way, the dark sky
overhead--far from all aid--faint and famished from long fasting--and
with two insensible men dumbly appealing to him for his assistance.