Nils assessed the damage.
"I've broken my cable," he said. "I've still got the air hose and radio wire."
Petrone swore softly in Italian.
Nils changed the subject. "Get the harpoon about four feet lower, quick. I don't want to lose this baby."
The harpoon came down within his grasp, and he impaled the dead air lion on it.
"Okay," Nils said "haul him up."
The pale shape of the lion began to rise above him. The idea came to him of attempting to grab hold of the lion so as to be pulled up with it. One of the men in his predicament had tried that once; the harpoon cable had broken and both man and lion had been lost. No, there was nothing to do but wait—and pray.
Nils dangled there, in the atmosphere, like a marionette on a single string. Well, he thought, this may be the end. He tried to puzzle out why he wasn't frightened. Was it because he was still full of triumph from getting that seventh lion? Perhaps. But more likely it was because there was still a chance that he could be saved, and a man never gives up hope until he thinks that there isn't a chance any more.
"Hold on, Nils," Petrone's voice said. "Everything's coming all right. We have to put a new cable on Kerr's drum, too, you know. But we'll have 'em both ready at about the same time, so that won't slow us down."