"After you, Monseigneur; otherwise who will hold the ladder?"
"Go up, I tell you!" repeated Gabriel, stamping his foot impatiently.
The time was not propitious for argument or formality. Martin-Guerre mounted as far as the excavation in the cliff, and from that elevation held the uprights of the ladder with all his strength while Gabriel ascended in his turn.
His foot was on the topmost round when a powerful wave struck the boat, broke the rope, and carried ladder and skiff out to sea.
Gabriel would have been lost save for Martin, who, at the risk of dying with him, leaned over the abyss with a motion quicker than thought, and seized his master by the collar of his doublet; then, with all the energy of despair, the brave fellow drew Gabriel up to where he was standing on the rock, as unharmed as himself.
"Now you have saved my life, my gallant Martin," said Gabriel.
"Yes; but the boat has gone," returned the squire.
"Bah! As Anselme says, it is paid for," said Gabriel, with a carelessness assumed to hide his anxiety.
"That's very well!" said the cautious Martin-Guerre, shaking his head; "but if your friend doesn't happen to be doing his turn of duty up there, or if the ladder isn't hanging from the tower, or if it breaks under our weight, or if the platform is occupied by a force stronger than ours,—why, then all chance of retreat, all hope of safety, has gone from us with that cursed boat."
"Well, so much the better," said Gabriel; "for now we must succeed or die."