Chapter Thirty Nine.
Scaling the Cliff.
Oh, for a long interval of darkness!
Our hearts beat anxiously—at least I can answer for my own. Rube watched the guerrilleros, permitting his head to be seen by them. My eyes were bent upon the rocky wall, but through the thick darkness I looked in vain for our comrade. I listened to hear how he was progressing; I could distinguish a slight scratching against the cliff, each moment higher and farther away; but Garey climbed with a moccasined foot, and the noise was too faint to reach the ears of our enemies. Oh, for a long interval of darkness!
It appeared a long one; perhaps it was not five minutes, but it felt twice that, before the lightning again blazed forth.
With the flash, I ran my eyes up the precipitous wall. Oh, God! Garey was still upon its face, as yet scarce midway up. He was standing on a ledge—his body flattened against the rock—and with his arms extended horizontally, he presented the appearance of a man crucified upon the cliff!
So long as the glare lasted, he remained in this attitude, motionless as the rock itself.
I turned with anxious look towards the guerrilleros. I heard no voice; I observed no movement. Thank Heaven! they saw him not!
Near where he was resting, some bushes of the trailing cedar grew out of the cliff; their dark foliage mottled its white face, rendering the form of the climber less conspicuous.