Throwing up his arms in a vain attempt to recover his balance, Ranworth disappeared in the newly-formed abyss.
The sudden jerk well-nigh capsized the rest of the party, for the smooth ice afforded but little foothold. The strain, too, caused the rope to "render" through their thickly-gloved hands, and had not the Russian taken the precaution of knotting his end round his waist, the coil with Ranworth at the end would have been lost for ever. As it was, the luckless man was dangling fifty feet over the brink of an unfathomable abyss.
The two lads and their Russian comrade began to haul away. Foot after foot of rope came home, till Ranworth's voice was heard feebly shouting to hold on.
The order was instantly obeyed. It was good to hear his voice, for it seemed marvellous that, after falling fifty feet and being brought up with a jerk, Ranworth's back had not been broken by the sudden strain on the rope.
As a matter of fact, his fall was less abrupt than it seemed, judging by the way in which the ice suddenly gave way all around him.
It was a terrific strain, nevertheless, but, owing to the thickness of Ranworth's fur coat, the bight of the rope, instead of cutting deeply into his body, merely jammed against his ribs. It was sufficient to deprive him of speech temporarily, and it was not until he was hauled up to within five feet of the brink of the crevasse that he found speech to warn his rescuers of the new peril that beset him.
"The rope is stranding," he shouted. "Belay if you can, and throw another rope to me. I may be able to grasp it; if not——"
The unfinished sentence told its own tale.
"We can take the strain, Guy," said Leslie hurriedly. "Cut off and bring another length of rope—thicker stuff if you can find it; and a crowbar," he added as an afterthought.
Guy was off as fast as the slippery nature of the ice would permit. Soon he was back with the required articles.