At last there was a faint glow of light behind the edge, which grew plainer in the gloom in which they had been working, and directly after Melchior’s hand reached the edge.
Dale was a man of resource, and he was about to call upon Saxe to hitch the rope round the axe handle once more—that which acted as an anchor—when he saw in the faint glow that the fingers clutched at the edge.
“Haul! haul!” he cried; and as they pulled the whole arm appeared above the edge, and was stretched flat on the ice. And the next moment, with a dash, the guide’s axe was swung over the edge, and the sharp point dug down into the glistening surface, giving the poor fellow a slight hold, which, little as it was, proved some help.
It has been said that Dale was a man of resource, and he proved it more than ever now.
“I can hold him,” he cried. “Take the rope, and lower down a big loop right over his head. That’s right: lower away.” Then, as Saxe responded quickly, he cried to the guide, “Try if you can get one or both your legs through the loop.”
There was a little scraping and movement before the poor fellow said, hoarsely—
“Through.”
“Now, Saxe, twist the rope as quickly as you can, so as to get hold.”
Saxe twisted the double rope till the loop closed upon the guide’s leg; and then there was a momentary pause.
“Now, ready! When I say haul, try to help us all you can. Haul!”