A dead silence reigned then for a few minutes, during which time a dark shadow glided across the deep gully, and they heard the faint whizzing sound of the wings of an eagle, whose keen, cruel eyes looked down at them as if seeing prey.
“Now,” cried Dale, “I must do this, Saxe. Don’t be impatient with me, boy; and if it’s any comfort to you, I may tell you that I am in a far worse position than you.”
“Yes; I know,” said Saxe hoarsely. “I wish I could help.”
“Do so another time by not getting yourself into such a scrape. Hush! don’t speak: I’m going to throw.”
The loop went flying up; but at the same moment Saxe saw Dale slip a little, and it was only by a violent effort that he saved himself from falling, while, as a consequence, the loop missed again, and fell to the full length of the rings off the thrower’s arm.
Saxe drew a deep breath, and watched now with a growing sensation of hopelessness as he saw each effort made, and every one after deliberate and careful gathering up of the rope and hanging it in rings upon the left arm. But no matter how he tried Dale’s casts grew more and more erring, till, quite in despair, he stood fast, resting his weary arm, and said with an apologetic air—
“I wish I were not so clumsy, Saxe. I’m afraid I must try some fresh plan.”
There was a long pause now, and Dale seemed to be thinking.
“Are you quite safe?” he said at last.
“I—that is, I can hold on,” said Saxe sadly.