Another long spell of darkness, another blaze of light.
I scanned the gorge: no human form was visible. I saw a dark line that, like a crack, vertically intersected the cliff from parapet to base: it was the rope Garey had carried up. He had reached the summit in safety!
It was my turn next—for Rube insisted on retaining the post of danger—and with my rifle slung on my back, I stood ready. I had given the parting whisper to my brave steed, and pressed his velvet muzzle to my cheek.
With the last flicker of the electric gleam, I seized the hanging lazo, and drew myself upward.
I had confidence in the rope: I knew it was fastened above, or safe in the strong grasp of Garey.
With its aid, the ascent was rendered easy. I experienced no difficulty in climbing from ledge to ledge, and before the light came again, I had reached the crest of the cliff.
We lay flat among the bushes that grew by the very brink, scarcely showing our faces to the front.
I saw that the rope had been fastened round the trunk of a small tree.
Presently we perceived by its jerking, that Rube had begun his ascent.
Shortly after, we could hear him sprawling and scratching upward, and then his thin dark form loomed over the edge of the cliff, and, dead beat for breath, he staggered silently into the bushes beside us. Even in the darkness I noticed something peculiar in his appearance: his head looked smaller, but I had no time to question him.