Although their eyes ached with the glare, the watchers could not tear their gaze from the scene below. There was a fearful attraction about Chenobi’s heroic efforts. All natural law seemed to proclaim that what he was about to attempt was an impossibility.
“He’ll never do it,” Wilson groaned, forgetting the pain of his wounded limb in his anxiety. “Haverly’s weight will drag him over as soon as he begins to climb.”
“We shall see presently,” the baronet answered; “if anyone can do it he can.”
Gripping the American by the waist with his left arm, Chenobi slipped the looped girdle about his own neck. Another pause of a few seconds, and then, relaxing his grip of the limp body, he took all the weight upon his neck. The strain must have been tremendous, yet he kept his balance; more, he commenced to turn round upon the ledge—thrusting Haverly behind him as he did so—until he stood facing the cliff, ready for his climb.
The first part of his task had been accomplished in safety; but what of the next? Would not the weight of his swinging burden drag him backward, as Wilson had said? It would soon be seen, for now Chenobi was commencing his perilous journey. Hand over hand he clawed his way up, moving deliberately, and as one who was sure of his ground.
How he finished that fearful climb the spectators never knew, for, appalled by the peril of his position, they retired from the edge of the cliff, not daring to look lest they should see the daring climber fall headlong into the fiery sea below. Each moment they expected to hear a cry of alarm from the abyss—evidence that Chenobi had lost his balance—but it never came. Soon the Ayuti’s head appeared above the cliff top, and Seymour leapt forward to relieve him of his burden. Haverly was saved!
Staggering a few paces from the edge, Chenobi flung himself down upon the rocky ground, exhausted but triumphant. And here he lay for a time, while Mervyn and the baronet used their utmost endeavours to restore their senseless friend. Half an hour passed ere the American came round, and for long afterwards he was weak and ill as a result of his terrible experience. His gratitude, when he knew of Chenobi’s heroism, was touching to behold; yet he said little. Only his eyes showed how deeply grateful he felt.
Seeing him moving, the Ayuti rose and came towards him, whereupon Silas tottered to his feet and held out his hand.
“Shake!” he said, and Seymour translated his words. “You’re a white man all through!”
Chenobi showed all his magnificent teeth in a smile of pleasure, as he gripped the Yankee’s hand; then turned to where the great elk still stood, motionless as though carved in stone.