Then he found the cleft was growing narrower and narrower. It closed in until it threatened to stop him.
He choked as he thought of the possibility. It was the most fearful thing thus almost to get a taste of liberty and then have it denied him.
At last he was checked. For the time being he could force his way no higher.
He felt his strength leaving him. A dizziness came upon him, and he knew he was on the verge of falling. But he maintained his hold and began to feel about. By working his way cautiously some distance along the cleft, he finally came to a point where the walls were wide enough apart for him to slowly drag his body through. Above that point was a narrow ledge, on which he paused to rest.
Still that rift of light was far above his head. Could he ever reach it?
For some time he rested on the ledge, seeking to summon back all the natural strength he possessed. Finally he resumed his almost superhuman efforts.
Occasionally he paused to look up at the cleft of light. At first it had seemed very narrow, but now it was growing wider. Each time he looked it appeared wider than before.
"I'll reach it!" he told himself, with absolute confidence. "Porfias del Norte still lives, Señor Merriwell, as you shall have good cause to know!"
Now the air seemed sweeter and purer. He realized how stagnant and stifling it had been away down there in the cave of death. He turned his face up to it and drew in deep breaths.
Finally he came to a place where the cleft widened on either hand until it was impossible to mount higher by clinging to opposite sides.