Occasionally he spoke to Sheba, but she volunteered no remarks. It was
her part to wait and watch while he concentrated every faculty upon his
task. He had come to an impasse after crossing a dozen feet of the wall
and was working up to get around a slab of granite which protruded, a
convex barrier, from the surface of the cliff. It struck the girl that
from a distance he must look like a fly on a pane of glass. Even to her,
close as she was, that smooth rock surface looked impossible.
Her eye left him for an instant to sweep the gulf below. She gave a
little cry, ran to his coat, and began to wave it. For the first time
since Elliot had begun the traverse she took the initiative in speech.
"I see some people away over to the left, Mr. Elliot. I'm going to call
to them." Her voice throbbed with hope.
But it was not her shouts or his, which would not have carried one tenth
the distance, that reached the group in the valley. One of them caught a
glimpse of the wildly waving coat. There was a consultation and two or
three fluttered handkerchiefs in response. Presently they moved on.
Sheba could not believe her eyes. "They're not leaving us surely?" she
gasped.
"That's what they're doing," answered Gordon grimly.
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