CHAPTER EIGHTH.
There is a cliff, whose high and bending head Looks fearfully on the confined deep; Bring me but to the very brim of it, And I'll repair the misery thou dost bear.
King Lear.
The shout of human voices from above was soon augmented, and the gleam of torches mingled with those lights of evening which still remained amidst the darkness of the storm.

Some attempt was made to hold communication between the assistants above and the sufferers beneath, who were still clinging to their precarious place of safety; but the howling of the tempest limited their intercourse to cries as inarticulate as those of the winged denizens of the crag, which shrieked in chorus, alarmed by the reiterated sound of human voices, where they had seldom been heard.
On the verge of the precipice an anxious group had now assembled.
Oldbuck was the foremost and most earnest, pressing forward with unwonted desperation to the very brink of the crag, and extending his head (his hat and wig secured by a handkerchief under his chin) over the dizzy height, with an air of determination which made his more timorous assistants tremble.
"Haud a care, haud a care, Monkbarns!" cried Caxon, clinging to the skirts of his patron, and withholding him from danger as far as his strength permitted--"God's sake, haud a care!--Sir Arthur's drowned already, and an ye fa' over the cleugh too, there will be but ae wig left in the parish, and that's the minister's." "Mind the peak there," cried Mucklebackit, an old fisherman and smuggler--"mind the peak--Steenie, Steenie Wilks, bring up the tackle--I'se warrant we'll sune heave them on board, Monkbarns, wad ye but stand out o' the gate." "I see them," said Oldbuck--"I see them low down on that flat stone--Hilli-hilloa, hilli-ho-a!" "I see them mysell weel eneugh," said Mucklebackit; "they are sitting down yonder like hoodie-craws in a mist; but d'yo think ye'll help them wi' skirling that gate like an auld skart before a flaw o' weather ?--Steenie, lad, bring up the mast--Od, I'se hae them up as we used to bouse up the kegs o' gin and brandy lang syne--Get up the pickaxe, make a step for the mast--make the chair fast with the rattlin--haul taught and belay!" The fishers had brought with them the mast of a boat, and as half of the country fellows about had now appeared, either out of zeal or curiosity, it was soon sunk in the ground, and sufficiently secured.

A yard across the upright mast, and a rope stretched along it, and reeved through a block at each end, formed an extempore crane, which afforded the means of lowering an arm-chair, well secured and fastened, down to the flat shelf on which the sufferers had roosted.

Their joy at hearing the preparations going on for their deliverance was considerably qualified when they beheld the precarious vehicle by means of which they were to be conveyed to upper air.

It swung about a yard free of the spot which they occupied, obeying each impulse of the tempest, the empty air all around it, and depending upon the security of a rope, which, in the increasing darkness, had dwindled to an almost imperceptible thread.
Besides the hazard of committing a human being to the vacant atmosphere in such a slight means of conveyance, there was the fearful danger of the chair and its occupant being dashed, either by the wind or the vibrations of the cord, against the rugged face of the precipice.