The two edges of the crevasse now began to approach, each other, as it seemed to Saxe; and he could see that, except where the piece was broken away, they exactly matched, every angle on the one side having its depression on the other, the curves following each other with marvellous exactness, just as if the fracture were one of only a few weeks old.
“See the ledge, Saxe?” came down.
“No;” and the lad felt an intense longing now to be able to see Dale’s face watching him, for it would have seemed like companionship, instead of his having nothing to gaze at but the strip of blue sky, and the glistening blue-ice walls on either side going off to right and left till they seemed to come together in the blue gloom.
And still the rope glided over the ice above, and the slip of sky grew narrow; but though Saxe peered down into the depths, there was no sign of any ledge, and the boy who now felt less nervous, was wondering how much longer the rope was, when Dale’s voice was heard.
“No more rope!” he cried. “Now, can you see the ledge?”
Saxe gazed down in silence for a few moments, and Dale’s voice came again—short, sharp and impatient:
“I say, can you see the ledge?”
“No.”
“Are you quite sure?”
“Yes.”