This was done; the rope being twisted above the band of leather placed to keep the hand from slipping; and with this to take off the stress, Dale was able, while well holding on, to get to his knees, and then to his feet, when, planting his heels in one of the grooves cut in the ice, he took a fresh grip of the rope.
“Now, Saxe,” he cried; “up with you! Behind me!”
The lad grasped the position, and leaped up and seized the rope behind Dale.
“Now, then!—a steady haul together!”
The battle seemed to be nearly won, for the rope glided on steadily over the ice, cutting pretty deeply the while, but after the first few seconds apparently without friction.
Foot by foot, a steady pull, till there was a sudden check.
“Hah!” ejaculated Dale. “I see. We are at the end of the new rope, and the knot has caught in the groove we’ve made. I can hold him, Saxe. Take your axe, and pick the ice away on one side. Mind! you must not touch the rope.”
Saxe took his axe, and a few strokes with the pointed end broke off a good-sized piece. The knot glided over, and the next minute, with the same idea inspiring both, they began to haul up Melchior’s rope.
Will this last out, and not be broken by the friction?
Foot by foot—foot by foot—till at any moment they felt they would see the man’s hand appear; and all seemed to depend now upon the state in which the poor fellow would be in when he reached the surface. If he were perfectly helpless, the worst part, perhaps, of their task would come. If he could aid, it would be comparatively easy.