There was a pause, and then—
“I can just touch it with the end of my finger. I am lying down, and holding on with one hand and my ice-axe. If I could use my axe, I could pull it down.”
“No, no!” shouted Dale. “The rope is all out. Stop: if I give you another two feet, can you get your arm well through the noose I have made, and hang on?”
“I will try.”
“Come here, Saxe. I am going to lean over the edge and hold the rope down as far as I can reach. Drive the head of your axe into the hole you have made, and hold on with one hand; take hold of my ankle with the other. There will be no strain upon you, but it will give me strength by holding me in my place.”
The axe was driven in to hold like an anchor, and Saxe shuddered as he held by the handle and took a good grip of Dale by thrusting his fingers in at the top of his heavy mountaineering boot.
Then Dale shuffled himself as far over the brink as he dared, and stretched his arms down to their full extent.
“Now: can you do it?”
Another terrible pause.
“No, herr.”