"O God, send us help!" cried Nigel in an agony of feeling that he could not master.
"If I had better foothold I might spring towards you and catch hold of you," said the hermit, "but I cannot spring off my heels. Besides, I doubt if you could bear my weight."
"Try, try!" cried Nigel, eagerly extending his hand. "Don't fear for my strength—I've got plenty of it, thank God! and see, I have my right arm wedged into a crevice so firmly that nothing could haul it out."
But Van der Kemp shook his head. "I cannot even make the attempt," he said. "The slightest move would plunge me down. Dear boy! I know that you and your father and Moses will care for my Winnie, and—"
"Massa!" gasped Moses, who while the hermit was speaking had been working his body with mysterious and violent energy; "massa! couldn't you fall dis way, an' Nadgel could kitch your hand, an' I's got my leg shoved into a hole as nuffin' 'll haul it out ob. Dere's a holler place here. If Nadgel swings you into dat, an' I only once grab you by de hair—you're safe!"
"It might be done—tried at least," said the hermit, looking anxiously at his young friend.
"Try it!" cried Nigel, "I won't fail you."
It is not possible for any except those who have gone through a somewhat similar ordeal to understand fully the test of cool courage which Van der Kemp had to undergo on that occasion.
Shutting his eyes for a moment in silent prayer, he deliberately worked with his shoulders upon the cliff against which he leaned until he felt himself to be on the point of falling towards his friend, and the two outstretched hands almost touched.
"Now, are you ready?" he asked.