We both sprang forward instinctively, and heard the rock strike the path, then an appalling yell from behind us; we swung round. Piotr had disappeared. The hunchback was cringing away from the abyss, and could hardly summon sufficient strength to point with a trembling hand. It was enough, however, and we understood that our guide had gone over the edge; the suddenness of the accident made it the more appalling.
We lay flat on our stomachs and peered over; then I scrambled to my feet.
"He's stuck there, some way down. Here you, run after the gentleman and get him back as quickly as possible; there is just a chance that we can save your friend. Quick, man, quick!"
He darted off; and Mr. Neville ran to undo the rope which hung from the pack-saddle of the horse.
"Will it be long enough?" I said.
"I hope so, I judge him to be thirty to thirty-five feet down."
I took the free end of the rope, and made a slip noose. The one idea in my head was that somehow I must save this man. He was as far as I could see jammed in an angle of rock, and held in position by the roots of a small tree, which had found enough earth on the ledge to give it a stunted existence.
I kept repeating to myself: "If only the tree holds, if only the tree holds." When the rope had been arranged satisfactorily I placed a folded rug on the edge of the precipice, to prevent the rock cutting, then turned to see if Carruthers was in sight.
Mr. Neville was standing over me, with a terribly drawn look on his face.
"Victor, you can't go," he muttered.