Gingerly he tested it with his weight, then went up hand over hand
and worked himself over the edge of the little plateau.
"All right?" the girl called up.
"All right. But you can't make it. I'm coming down again."
"I'm going to try."
"I wouldn't, Miss O'Neill. It's really dangerous."
"I'd like to try it. I'll stop if it's too hard," she promised.
The strength of her slender wrists surprised him. She struggled up the
vertical crevasse inch by inch. His heart was full of fear, for a
misstep now would be fatal. He lay down with his face over the ledge and
lowered to her the buckled loop of his belt. Twice she stopped
exhausted, her back and her hands pressed against the walls of the
trough angle for support.
"Better give it up," he advised.
"I'll not then." She smiled stubbornly as she shook her head.
Presently her fingers touched the belt.
[Illustration: "SO YOU THINK I'M A 'FRAID-CAT, MR. ELLIOT?"]
Gordon edged forward an inch or two farther. "Put your hand through the
loop and catch hold of the leather above," he told her.
She did so, and at the same instant her foot slipped. The girl swung out
into space suspended by one wrist. The muscles of Elliot hardened into
steel as they responded to the strain.
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