And he was twisting dizzily....
With frantic effort he crooked an arm over the coping at a juncture when,
had he not acted instantly, he must have swung back. There was a racking
wrench, as though his arm were being torn from its socket.
At the end of a struggle even more wearing he flung his other arm across
the ledge, and for some time hung there, at the end of an almost taut rope,
unable to overcome its resistance and pull himself in over the coping,
stubbornly refusing to loose his grasp.
Presently, grown desperate, he let go with his right hand, holding fast
only with the left, fumbled in a pocket, found his knife, opened it with
his teeth, and began, to saw at the rope round his chest.
Strand after strand parted grudgingly till it fell away altogether and
reaction from its tension threw him against the coping with such violence
that he all but lost his hold. Dropping the knife, he swept his right arm
up and once more hooked his fingers over the inside of the ledge.
Far down the knife clinked suggestively upon stone.
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