Only with the utmost exertion did he manage to scale the opposite cliff.
"While he was clambering up the mountain-side, Mariora sobbing and screaming, rushed down to her insensible husband, and taking his head into her bosom dragged his limp body out of the cold water of the brook, whilst I took down from the beech-tree Fatia Negra's double-barrelled musket and raised it to my cheek.

Before me on the white rock, in the full light of the moon, a good mark for a marksman was that panting black object struggling upwards.

I pointed the barrel straight at him.

I took a long and careful aim.

I am certain I should have hit him.