th the antigrav full on it keeps its momentum and goes on
moving up. I try to check it, but the wind gets underneath.

It is tugging to get away; I step blindly upwards in the effort to
keep up with it. One foot goes on a narrow ledge, barely a toe hold. I
am being hauled upwards. I bring the other foot up and find the top of
a boulder, just within reach. Now the first foot--

And now I am on top of the boulder, but I have lost touch with the
cliff and the full force of the wind is pulling the stretcher upwards.
I get one arm over it and fumble underneath for the control of the
antigrav; I must give it weight and put it down on this boulder and
wait for the wind to drop.

Suddenly I realize that my weight is going; bending over the stretcher
puts me in the field of the antigrav. A moment later another gust
comes, and I realize I am rising into the air.

Gripping the edge of the stretcher with one hand I reach out the
other, trying to grasp some projection on the face of the cliff. Not
being able to see I simply push farther away till it is out of reach.

We are still rising.

I pull myself up on the stretcher; there is just room for my toes on
either side of M'Clare's legs. The wind roaring in my ears makes it
difficult to think.

Rods of light slash down at me from the edge of the cliff. For a
moment all I can do is duck; then I realize we are still well below
them, but rising every moment. The cliff-face is about six feet away;
the wind reflecting from it keeps us from being blown closer.

I must get the antigrav off. I let myself over the side of the
stretcher, hanging by one hand, and fumble for the controls. I can
just reach. Then I realize this is no use. Antigrav controls are not
meant to go off with a click of the finger; they might get switched
off accidentally. To work the switch and the safety you must have two
hands, or one hand in the optimum position. My position is about as
bad as it could be. I can stroke the switch with one finger; no more.

I haul myself back on to the stretcher and realize we are only about
six feet under the beam of light. Only one thing left. I feel in my
pocket for the Andite. Stupidly, I am still also bending over the
outlet valve of the helmet, trying to see whether M'Clare is still
breathing or not.

The little white cigar is not fused. I have to hold on with one hand.
In the end I manage to stick the Andite between thumb and finger-roots
of that hand while I use the