“I’m coming by you now. Are the others strong enough to crawl?”
“Yes,” said Gwyn, faintly, for his heart was beating strangely now just when he felt that he ought to be at his strongest and best.
“You, there, Ydoll?” came loudly.
“Yes; all right,” cried Gwyn. “Where’s Sam Hardock?”
“Crawling up after me,” came more loudly.
“Then I must go back,” said Vores. “P’raps I’d better lead, Mr Gwyn.”
“Yes, yes, go on, and we’ll follow,” said Gwyn, more faintly; and he felt the man pass him again, there being just room.
“Must go very slowly,” said Vores, “because there’s no room to turn for another fifty yards or so. Going backward takes time. Now, then, come on, all on you.”
Once more Gwyn’s dizzy feeling came back, but he struggled on, conscious that his rescuer’s face was close to his—so close that at times their hands touched. Then, after what seemed to be a long nightmare journey, the man’s words sounded clearer on his ears.
“It’s wider here. Goes zigzagging along with one or two close nips, and then we’re out to the crack in the cliff.”