Faithful John McQueen, who had been a worshiper at young Faxon’s shrine from the first day of his appearance at the hotel, never once took his eyes or his thoughts from the rope in his hands, or for a moment forgot the important part he was playing in the tragic scene.
Up, up, Clifford came, nearer and nearer toward the goal, and with every foot of advancement the sustaining rope was shortened just so much, with a firm and steady pull that was a source of continual encouragement and support to the valiant hero.
At length his right hand, now almost purple from his exertions, grasped the last knot just below the edge of the cliff.
This was the most critical moment of all, for the plateau shelved outward, and it hardly seemed possible that the young man and his burden could be drawn safely up over the brink.
But willing hands and strong arms reached down and grasped him, while John held his rope with an iron grip, and in another moment he was lifted out of space and onto solid ground once more.
His face was almost as purple as his hands, the veins upon his forehead stood out in knots, his breath came in shrill, quivering pants between his livid lips, and the moment he was relieved of his burden he sank exhausted, well-nigh unconscious, upon the rug which Gertrude had dragged forward to receive him.
CHAPTER XI.
CLIFFORD MEETS WILLIAM TEMPLE.
Gertrude then held out her arms for Minnie, and the child was surrendered to her. She had begun to show signs of returning animation; there was already a little color in her lips, the heart was beating, the chest heaving slightly, and ere long she opened her eyes to find herself gazing straight into the familiar faces of her brother and friend.