“Can you hold on a few minutes longer?”—Page 173.
“No! no! I am too weak,” came more faintly than ever. “Help me quickly, and Heaven will reward you!”
“I will do what I can—but you must hold tight for a minute,” answered Ben.
Just above his head a number of bushes were growing, and among these he had espied a long, stout-looking shoot. Clambering to this, he pulled out his pocket-knife and cut it off. Then he leaped down once more, and holding tight to the rocks with one hand, shoved out the branch with the other. “Catch hold, if you can,” he cried.
The woman understood and gave up the rock for 174 the stick, and Ben pulled her toward him. It was no easy task, and once it looked as if she would lose her hold and be swept away. But in a minute the danger was past, and the young captain was hauling her up to where he stood. She was thoroughly exhausted, and no sooner did he have her in his arms than she fainted.
One difficulty had been overcome, but another still remained, and that was to get up to the safe ground above the rocks. But once again the bushes growing out of the crevices came into play, and, hauling himself from one to another, Ben at last found himself safe, with his burden resting heavily over his shoulder.
It was now that the young captain found the woman was suffering from a blow over the left temple, from which the blood was slowly trickling. Laying the form down, he brought out his handkerchief and bound up the wound as well as he was able. This had just been accomplished when the sufferer came again to her senses and stared around her in bewilderment.
“You—you—am I safe?” she asked, in broken English, but in a sweet voice which went straight to Ben’s heart.