Stones had fallen again and again as he climbed; but I was getting accustomed to their rattle and sullen plunge, for so long as the rope proved true they were robbed of their terrible meaning. Just, however, as my poor comrade said he meant to take a rest, there was another sharp jerk which told that his foothold had given way, and for a moment or two I was wondering whether I could hold on, as I listened to the falling of many stones. Once more he gained a good footing, and from where he half-hung, half-lay, he began to talk slowly about his position. "It's like climbing up the side of a house built of loose stones," he said in a low tone; "but I mean to do it now if you can keep hold of the rope firmly." "I can," I said. "Ah! It's a horrible place, Val; but you give me confidence. Now then, I'm rested. Can you haul up more quickly? I want to get it done?" "No," I said quietly; "I can only just make the rope safe." "Very well. Go on as you like. There, I'm going to begin." "Go on," I said; and once more the painful climb went on, with the stones falling and splashing, and the sound of Denham's breath at times coming to my ears in sobs which seemed terribly loud. It did not last many minutes; but no more agony could have been condensed into hours, and no hours could have seemed longer than the interval during which I strove to save my companion from death. However, all things come to an end; and at last, when I was nervously on the _qui vive_ for another slip, and just when Denham seemed to be creeping painfully up, though still many feet below, I suddenly felt one of his hands touch my ankle, and the other get a good grip of the rope where it lay cutting into my leg. Then I heard his feet grating and scraping against the side, and my heart leaped as he threw himself on his side away from the mouth of the hole, and lay perfectly still. "Ah!" I cried; "at last!" and, freeing my legs from the rope, I moved painfully after him; but at the first attempt I felt as if the darkness was lighting up, flashes played about my eyes, there was a horrible swinging round of everything in my head, and I sank down, crawled aside a little way instinctively to get from the shaft-mouth, and then for a few moments all was blank. Not more than a few moments, however, for Denham roused me by speaking. "Is anything the matter?" he said. "Matter?" I replied, as the absurdity of his question seemed to surprise me. "Oh no, nothing at all the matter, only that my head feels as if it had been crushed by a stone, and we had just saved ourselves from the most terrible death that could have come to two poor wretches who want to live. It's very comic altogether--isn't it?" Denham sat in silence, and we could hear the firing still going on. At last he spoke with a low, subdued voice.