'The strain on Ken's arms was awful.'
The strain on Ken's arms was awful. The depths below made his head swim. But he set his teeth, dug his toes into the earth, and held on like grim death.
'Let go,' said Roy briefly.
To Ken it seemed as though he were dropping his friend into the awful abyss. But he obeyed without hesitation.
There was a second of ghastly suspense. Then Roy was standing on the almost invisible ledge, balancing himself, spreadeagled against the face of the rock.
His hands moved slowly, the fingers groping for a hold. He found it, and clutching tightly with his left, raised his right hand.
'My bayonet,' he said quickly.
Ken slipped it out of its socket and gave it him.
Roy took it and carefully and deliberately drove it into a crevice in the rock on a level with his head.