“You foolish fellow!” Dale said cheerfully, so as not to alarm him at a time when he seemed to have quite lost his nerve: “pretty mess to get yourself in! Fortunately I have the rope.”
As Dale spoke he looked about wildly for some means of utilising that rope; but he could see none.
“Why did you go up there instead of keeping down here?”
“I thought I saw an opening here,” said Saxe; “and there is one big enough to creep in. I am holding by the side of it now, or I should go down.”
“Then go on holding by the side,” said Dale cheerily, though his face was working; and then, to take the boy’s attention from his perilous position, “Not a crystal cave, is it?”
“Yes. I felt big crystals inside: I am holding on by one.”
“Bravo! Well done, boy; but you are making yourself a front door.”
“Don’t—don’t laugh at me, Mr Dale,” said Saxe piteously. “It is very hard work to hold on.”
“I’m not laughing at you, Saxe, my boy: only saying a word to cheer you up. You haven’t got a crevasse under you, and if the worst came I should have to catch you. Now, let’s see: here’s a ledge away to your right; but it’s too far for you to leap, and there is nothing to catch hold of. If I got the rope up to you, you could fasten it somewhere and slide down.”
“Fasten it? To what?”