“You there, Kitty?” he asked. Evidently he was afraid to turn his head to look for fear the movement would dislodge one of the straining hands.
“Yes,” replied Kitty.
“Can’t you—do anything?” panted Tad anxiously.
“Yes. Hold on a minute more, Tad.”
“I will—if I can,” answered Tad in a weak voice.
“You’ve got to,” said Kitty. He was already scrambling back down the fissure. Rodney, watching below with a thumping heart, groaned. It looked as though Kitty had given up. But at the bottom of the fissure Kitty paused, gripped the rock with both hands, and sent one gray-stockinged foot searching to the left for a projection. At last he found it, tested it, paused an instant, and then wormed his body from the fissure and out against the blank wall of rock. The granite was loose and crumbly thereabouts and a little shower of gravel trickled down. Kitty studied the rock beyond. Here and there small inequalities gave faint promise of affording hold for feet and hands, but from where Rodney stood below the journey across that steep face of rock looked hopeless and foolhardy. Matty and May had ceased watching. At a little distance under the shadow of the Rock they stood white faced and miserable.
“Kitty’s trying to get across to him lower down,” announced Rodney to them. “I don’t see how he can do it though. It doesn’t look as if—” Rodney’s voice broke off short and a gasp escaped him. Kitty, in taking his weight from one foot, had placed too much reliance on a tiny projection above him and a nodule of granite had broken off in his hand. For an instant he had swayed dangerously before, summoning his strength, he had thrown his body against the rock. Then during a heartbreaking moment he clung there while his disengaged hand travelled here and there above him, the clutching fingers seeking a new hold. They found it at last and Rodney’s fast beating heart leaped with relief. How Kitty ever made the journey across that seemingly smooth face of granite will always remain a mystery to the others. Afterwards Kitty himself acknowledged that he didn’t believe he could do it again, adding with conviction, “Sure I don’t want to try!” But across it he went, at a snail’s pace to be sure, but steadily. And at last he was directly under Tad, and by reaching one hand upward could touch that youth’s heel.
“I’m under you, Tad,” panted Kitty.
“I know,” answered Tad.