The task looked very laborious all the same. But the man’s climbing skill was wonderful; nothing seemed to daunt him, and at the end of a few minutes there came a triumphant jodel from the invisible spot to which he had made his way.
Directly after the rope fell in rings from above.
“Let the young herr fasten it round him before he begins to climb,” cried Melchior; and he was obeyed.
“You will never climb that, Saxe,” said Dale. “It was a hard task for him.”
“But I must try,” said the boy huskily; and he started at once, desperately and in haste.
“Bravo! one does not know what one can do till one tries,” cried Dale. For with the rope always kept taut to help him and give him confidence, Saxe climbed on, his nerves in such a state of exaltation that he forgot how dizzy it had made him feel to see Melchior mount, but at the same time remembered almost exactly how he had planted his feet in the critical places.
This went on till he was three parts of the way up, where a projecting rock overhead had to be passed; and the boy now felt, as he rested for a few moments, that if he slipped there or failed to cling sufficiently tightly, he must fall to the broad shelf where Dale was standing, and rebound into the awful depths below.
In fancy he saw himself bounding from place to place, always gathering speed, till he lay a shapeless mass among the stones of the valley; and, in spite of himself, he turned his head and looked down.
The view was so appalling, as he clung there, that a low hoarse sigh escaped him; his nerves tingled; a curious sensation ran up his spine, and as he wrenched his head away from the sight which fascinated him, he closed his eyes.
A tug at the rope roused him, and brought him back to himself, just as Dale was pressing forward into the gash in the rock, ready to seize him as he fell.