“Keep still, sahib!”
It was the deep voice of Jai Singh, and it seemed to be behind, as well as below, him. The sound gave Chick new courage.
“Hello, Jai Singh!” he managed to reply.
“I come up soon. We both get out!” went on Jai Singh. “Only, don’t let go. That would end it. Wait till somebody comes.”
So Jai Singh could not help him! Chick had hoped at first that the powerful Hindu was in a situation to lend him a hand.
As a matter of fact, Jai Singh had had a narrower escape than Chick. He had grasped the root of a shrub growing from a crack in the face of the rock, and thus had saved himself from going to the bottom.
If the shrub had not happened to be of a tough species, the root would have broken off under the tremendous strain put upon it by the weight and thrust of the falling Hindu.
But Jai Singh did not fear.
With the fatalistic calmness of his race, he retained his grip, and, though he felt the root giving way a little under his weight, decided that it would hold him—unless the fates had decided that his time to die had come.
In either case, there was nothing he could do except to wait and see.