"Yes," I said; "go on."
"I must confess from the beginning," he proceeded, in a curious
monotone, as if his body, not his mind, were talking, "I doubted your
judgment of the glacier. The access to the summit was evidently so easy
that, I thought, some route across would surely open out before us. I
desired to surprise you; I knew you could easily overtake us. Therefore,
I set forth. The Eskimos hung back, but I promised them knives if they
would follow.
"It was easy enough until we came to this crevasse. I attempted to leap
across, but I slipped and fell. I do not know how it happened, but I
struck several times and whirled over and over, and felt a blow upon the
back of my head. It dazed me. When I came to myself I was seated upon
that ledge, with my back against the wall. The wall slants in, as you
see, and the outer edge of the ledge is raised, so I was secure.
"But I had only half recovered my senses and I began to cry out for
help. I was so much disturbed that I didn't know what was going on until
I saw someone upon the shelf opposite. Then I think I shouted louder.
Suddenly there came another shock and I should have fallen, but someone
held me up. It was Daniel. He must have leaped across."
He paused and I looked down again. The ledge, at its broadest barely
a foot and a half wide, fell away into the wall, not two feet from the
spot where Praed must have brought up. It was a brave leap.
"Go on," I commanded.
"Daniel laughed at me," resumed the Professor, like a child reading from
a book, "and waited till I got back some of my self-possession. Then he
made signs to me to spring across and catch the icicles with my arms. I
was afraid. He laughed again and made another sign that he would lift
me across. I let him take me by the knees and lift me until my head
and waist rose above the shelf, and then I leaned forward and we both
toppled over. I caught the icicles, and he held me firm and perhaps—I
don't know—if I had kept still—"