Had the wind increased in violence in
proportion as the way grew harder, they could never have made it,
physical marvels though they were. Only the absolute knowledge that they
dared not return drove them on; that, and the possibility of finding the
precious stone, and of ultimately saving the two men they had left
behind.
The last twenty feet was the most extraordinary effort that any human
had ever been subjected to. They had to take turns in negotiating the
rock; one would creep a few inches on, get a good hold, and brace
herself against the wind, while the other, crawling alongside, used her
as a sort of a crutch. Their fingers were bleeding and their finger-
nails cracked from the rock and cold; the same is equally true of their
toes. Had it been forty feet instead of twenty--
The rocks ended there. Beyond was nothing but sky; even this was not
like what they were used to, but was very nearly black. Two more spurts,
and Rolla threw one hand ahead and caught the edge of the rock. Cunora
dragged herself alongside. The effort brought blood to her nostrils.
They rested a minute or two, then looked at one another in mute inquiry.
Cunora nodded; Rolla took great breath; and they drew themselves to the
edge and looked over.
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