"Horace," he cried, "Horace, hold fast to the stock of the rifle." Something was thrust against my outstretched hand.

I gripped it despairingly, and there came a strain.

It was useless, I did not move.

Then, bethinking me, I drew up my legs and by chance or the mercy of Heaven, I know not, got my feet against a ridge of the rock on which I was lying.

Again I felt the strain, and thrust with all my might.