“Yes, that’s so; and this is a huge crack formed in the cooling,” said Panton.
“Ready!” cried Oliver. “Hold the rope so that there is no drag upon me, but be ready to tighten.”
No one spoke, and Oliver walked to the ladder, placed one foot upon a round, leaned forward, and looked down.
“You can see here,” he said, without turning his head, “it goes down till all is black darkness. Now then, let the rope slide through your finger. Ready?”
“Yes, all right.”
Then, to the horror of all, instead of going down upon hands and knees, and crawling across, Oliver stepped boldly on upright from round to round, till he reached the centre, where he stopped short, for the slight poles of the ladder had given and given, sinking lower, till it seemed as if they must break. Oliver knew it well, and had stopped short, expecting to feel the check of the rope, which grew moist in the hands which involuntarily tightened around it. The party in safety watched with starting eyes, and breath held till, after a pause of some seconds, which appeared to be prolonged into minutes, the bending ladder began to spring and creak again, as, with his balance regained, Oliver stepped on, round by round, and then reached the other side. Only about a dozen feet, but to all it seemed like a horrible, long journey of the greatest peril.
“Lane, lad,” cried Panton, excitedly, as soon as his friend was over, “what madness to go like that!”
“Shouldn’t have thought me a coward and a boaster, then,” said Oliver, sitting down about three yards from the edge of the chasm, and unfastening the rope from about his chest. “But it isn’t safe to come like that; I nearly lost my balance, the ladder bends so. Besides, it will bear you better if you distribute your weight and come on all fours.”
“It’s not safe even to do that,” said Drew, sharply.
“As aforesaid,” grumbled Wriggs.