At that point he seemed baffled.
Was it possible he could fail and perish with life and liberty almost in his very grasp?
There was but one course for him to pursue. He would have to abandon the attempt to climb with the assistance of both walls; he must take to one wall and make his way up that in some manner.
A little light came down to him from the opening, enabling him to choose the holds for his feet and hands.
At last he came to another ledge, where he lay at full length and rested, although the fear of slipping from it and falling back through that fissure into the heart of the mountain caused him to suffer intense torture. His fancy led him to imagine himself slipping, sliding, falling, seeking to grasp the walls with his torn hands, but failing utterly and dropping at last into the cave, where he found the dead man laughing at him.
Above the ledge at that point he could creep no farther. He aroused himself and crawled slowly along it. It led him out to a place where the light shone in and the cleft was wide above his head.
"Almost free!" he panted.
Had it not been for his life that he was struggling he could never have made that last ascent. In some mysterious manner he accomplished it, dragging himself at last by the aid of some bushes on the brink over the edge and dropping unconscious on the rocky mountain side.
In a little time the air revived him. He lifted his head and looked around. A cry of joy burst from his lips, and he managed to stagger to his feet. Around him on every side lay the beautiful world, the mountains, the autumn-tinted woods and the blue lakes. Above him was the sapphire sky and the gloriously golden sun, for the night had passed and another day was well advanced. He drew in deep breaths of the clear, sweet air, and his blood leaped in his veins.
Yet a marvelous change had taken place. At the time when he entered that cave his hair was as black as a raven's wing; now his face was like that of an old man, and his hair was snowy white!