As soon as Dumplin’ appeared above him, he kept an eye upward, to make sure that his stock was always driven in when Dumplin’ changed position. And he soon found, too, that Dumplin’ was coming very slowly.
“Poor old Dump,” Bennie thought, “I bet he’s too fat for this kind of work. I must be careful not to go fast, and yank the rope. Might pull him off.”
They were about half-way down, and Bennie had just driven his stock hard in, waiting for Dumplin’ to shift, when he saw the snow under Dump’s foot beginning to cave. The step had melted since morning, and grown weak, and the boy, besides, had got his weight too much on the very edge. Dumplin’ felt it give, too, and with a little cry tried to get his alpenstock driven in again.
“Dumplin’s slipping! Hold him, Uncle Billy!” Bennie called.
Even as he spoke, the step gave way, and Dumplin’s alpenstock, which he hadn’t been braced to drive deep enough, gave way also. Dumplin’ began to drop! Bennie saw him coming directly down. If he kept on, he would hit him, and both of them would go! It was a sickening instant, while Bennie leaned in against the snow, braced both feet, and clung with both hands to his stock.
But Dumplin’ dropped only four or five feet, and hung there, against the slope, while Uncle Billy’s voice came down, cool and steady, “Don’t drop your stock! Get your foot back on a step, Dumplin’. Keep your head!”
It was all over so quickly that Bennie could hardly realize for a second just what had happened. Of course, Uncle Billy had been anchored, and when Dump slipped, he could only go the length of the slack between him and the doctor! Bennie really knew that when he called up to his uncle. But he had forgotten everything but his instinct to cling to his stock when Dumplin’ had actually begun to fall. He felt suddenly sick and faint.
Then he said to himself, “This is no place to be sick on! Get on to your job!”
Looking Across Hunt’s Cove to Jefferson. Dotted Line Shows Route of Climb. Arrow Points to Place Where Dumplin’ Slipped.