y way back to where a sort of ledge ran sloping upwards a
little way towards the narrowest part of the ravine--at the end. I
carefully climbed this, and found myself, as I had expected, some thirty
feet on my way up, and now right in the narrowest extremity of the
narrow gorge. At my back was the cliff wall; in front of me was the
opposing wall, less than two feet away; on my right was the mass of rock
ending the gorge, sometimes uneven and projecting a little, sometimes
almost smooth; on my left hand was open space, where the gorge slowly
widened out I looked upward in doubt, almost in dismay; I looked down
upon Du Plessis' serious face: it was no use waiting; I took one long
breath and began the task. My plan was this: pressing my feet against
the wall of rock in front, and planting my back hard against the cliff
behind me, I gradually levered my way upwards. I made use of every
inequality and jutting rock that could aid me, and occasionally obtained
an excellent rest from bits of rock on my right, upon which I could
lean, and thus relieve the tension. I worked my way as rapidly as
possible, knowing how the strain must tell upon my legs, and, as far as
half-way, or a little beyond, progressed better and more speedily than I
could have hoped. Now, the labour began to tell more hardly as every
ten seconds passed. I was in good sound fettle; I had always been a
"stayer"; and my wind was in capital order; but my breath now began to
come with difficulty, the sweat was pouring from me, my shirt was
ripping off my back, and, worst of all, my legs were failing me. At
three-fourths of the distance--about one hundred and fifty feet up--I
noticed a projecting rock on the right. I worked up to this with
infinite difficulty, and then, leaning my right arm and as much of my
body over as possible, I rested for full three minutes. I was now, as I
well recognised, in a very serious plight. There were yet fifty more
feet of cliff to climb. I had already undergone what seemed superhuman
labour, and my muscles were relaxing, my strength and wind were ebbing.
To return was as perilous as to go on; to fall meant a shocking death I
took out my brandy flask, drained it to the last drop, uttered within
myself a half-prayer to a God I had long neglected, hitched up my belt
and trousers, and struggled on. If I live to a hundred, I never can
forget the terrible nightmare of that last fifty feet. But for the
brandy, that put new if fl