“Wait a moment!” came from the Alphian. “This ledge seems to incline upward.”
Johnston stood perfectly motionless, afraid to move from the ledge either to right or to left, and heard Branasko's footsteps along the rock beneath. “All right so far,” he called up, and his voice showed that he had gone to a considerable distance to the left, “the ledge seems to be still leading gradually upward. I think I can reach you.”
Fifteen minutes passed. The lone American could no longer hear Branasko's footsteps. Johnston was becoming uneasy and the hot air was causing his head to swim. He was thinking of trying to retrace his footsteps to a place of more security when he heard footsteps, and then the cheery voice of Branasko nearly opposite him across the chasm:
“Are you there?”
“Yes.”
“It is well; I have discovered a good pathway down to the cave, and a pool of fish besides. I have saved some for you. I was so hungry I had to eat. Now, you must jump over to me.”
“I cannot,” declared the American. “I cannot jump so far; besides, you failed.”
Branasko laughed. “I did not leap in the right direction. It is this point on which I am now standing that I should have tried to reach. Come, I will catch you.”
Johnston could not bear to be considered cowardly, so he stepped to the verge of the chasm and prepared to jump. His head felt more dizzy as he thought of the fathomless depths beneath, and the rush of hot air up the side of the cliff took his breath away, but he braced himself and said calmly: “All right, I am coming.” The next instant he sprang forward. Branasko caught him into his arms and they both rolled back on the level stone.
“Good,” cried the Alphian, trying to catch his breath, which Johnston had knocked out of him by the fall. “You did better than I; you are lighter.”