But, now that they were ready to resume their ascent, another terrible difficulty presented itself. On looking upward for a projection by which to raise himself, Leicester for the first time became aware that the ledge on which they stood marked a change of strata. Below them it was all hard rock; above the ledge he could see nothing but a vertical unbroken face, some twenty feet in height, of soft crumbling sandstone, so soft indeed that it scarcely merited the name of stone at all, but might be more fitly described as solidly compressed red sandy soil, of such slight tenacity that it was possible to scrape it away with the naked finger. To climb this smooth crumbling face, even with the aid of a ladder, George at once saw would have been utterly impossible; for, though it has been spoken of as vertical, it was not strictly so; it inclined slightly forward, so as actually to overhang them, and a ladder would therefore not have stood against the face; how, then, could they hope, encumbered as they were, to surmount it? The task was an obvious impossibility, and George saw that it would be necessary to seek for a practicable place elsewhere. Accordingly Walford was once more laid upon the rock, with Tom to watch him and guard against any possible mishap, whilst George went off upon an exploring expedition. He first tried to the left, passing along the ledge very cautiously, with his face turned to the wall, so that he might not again be exposed to the terrible temptation from which he had so recently escaped. At first he had great hopes of success, the ledge beginning to slope upward as he passed along it to the eastward; but when he had traversed some fifty yards or so, it suddenly narrowed away to nothing under a projecting angle of the superimposed sandstone, and in endeavouring to get a glimpse round this angle, the soft material crumbled in George's grasp, he lost his hold, staggered, reeled, struggled ineffectually to recover his balance, and fell. For a single instant he gave himself up as lost, and suffered in anticipation all the agonies of a frightful death; but he had not fallen more than six feet, when his outstretched hand encountered a long, stout, flexible twig, or rather a young tree, shooting out from an interstice in the rocks. He grasped it with the iron grip of a drowning man, grasped it with both hands, and, though it bent double with his weight, it held out bravely, and enabled him to regain his footing on the face of the precipice. In another moment he had scrambled once more on to the ledge, where he lay panting, breathless, with torn and bleeding hands, but safe.