“Yes, much; but for me, not you. The other will take longer, but it is safe.”
“Then try that way,” said Saxe eagerly; for he had quite recovered his nerve now, and would have been ready to jump to right or left had he been told.
“No, my lad; you are tired, and in an awkward place. My second way might fail too. It was to tear up my handkerchief and make it into a string to throw up to you, so that you could afterwards draw up the rope. No: my string might break. But I am as foolish as you are, and as wanting in resource. There,” he continued, after a few moments’ pause, “what a boaster I am! I did not even think of cutting a piece off the rope, unravelling it, and making it into a string.”
“Yes, you could easily make that into a string,” said Saxe anxiously.
“No, that would be a pity,” said Dale; “and a practised climber ought not to think of such a thing. I ought,” he said, scanning the rock carefully, “to be able to get up there above you, fasten the rope to some block, and then let it down to you.”
“No, don’t do that!” cried Saxe excitedly: “it is so easy to get up, and so hard to get down.”
“Not with a rope,” said Dale cheerily. “Let’s see. Suppose I join you the way you came, and jump to you? Is there room for both?”
“No, no!” cried Saxe excitedly.
“Well, if I climb out to where you jumped, I can hand you the rope, you can pass it round the ice-axe, and slip down with it double and then draw it off. No: it is not long enough, and we should have to leave the axe behind. I must climb above you, boy; so here goes.”