“Lie quite still, Cob,” was whispered; “I’m going to draw you up. Now!”
I felt myself dragged up suddenly, and at the same moment the earth and stones upon which I had been lying dropped from under me with a loud hissing rushing sound, and then I was lying quite still, clinging to Uncle Bob’s hand, which was very wet and cold.
“How did you come there?” he said at length.
“Crawled there, trying to get to you,” I said.
“And nearly went down that fearful precipice, you foolish fellow. But there: you are safe.”
“I did not know it was so dangerous,” I faltered.
“Dangerous!” he cried. “It is awful in this horrible darkness. The mountain seems to have been cut in half somewhere about here, and this fog confuses so that it is impossible to stir. We must wait till it blows off I think we are safe now, but I dare not try to find a better place. Dare you?”
“Not after what I have just escaped from,” I said dolefully.
“Are you cold?”
“Ye–es,” I said with a shiver. “It is so damp.”