“Call me Tensing,” I said, and went to the point indicated and started up. Wolfe changed positions to get a better angle for me with his light. I hooked my fingertips onto an inch-wide rim as high as I could reach, got the edge of my sole on another rim two feet up, and pulled, and there was ten per cent of it already done. The next place for a foot was a projecting knob, which I made with no trouble, but then my foot slipped off and I was back at the bottom.
Wolfe spoke. “Take off your shoes.”
“I am,” I said coldly. “And socks.”
It wasn’t too bad that way, just plenty bad enough. The ledge, when I finally made it, was at least ten inches wide. I called down to him, “You said to kneel. You come up and kneel. I’d like to see you.”
“Not so loud,” he said.
By clinging to a crack with one hand I managed to get the packages from my pockets with the other and push them into the crevice as far as my arm would go, and to slip the flashlight from its loop and shove them back. Getting the flashlight back into the loop with one hand was impossible, and I put it in a jacket pocket. I twisted my head to look at the way back and spoke again.
“I’ll never make it down. Go get a ladder.”
“Hug it,” he said, “and use your toes.”
Of course it was worse than going up — it always is — but I made it. When I was on his level again he growled, “Satisfactory.” Not bothering to reply, I sat down on a rock and played the flashlight over my feet. They weren’t cut to the bone anywhere, just some bruises and scratches, and no real flow of blood. There was still some skin left on most of the toes. Putting my socks and shoes on, I became aware that my face was covered with sweat and reached for my handkerchief.
“Come on,” Wolfe said.