[Illustration: '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.
'Chuck the rifles over,' he said. 'You mustn't leave them.'
Ken obeyed. A hollow crash came up from the black depths.
'Now I'm ready for you,' said Roy.
Pages:
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128