SON OF THE WIND
clined to trust it, and, without lifting his head, shouted for more rope. Nothing responded. He looked up, thinking perhaps, with his head down, his voice had failed to carry, and for the instant rested full weight on the rope. At that instant Esmeralda Charley threw the slack. Carron felt himself topple back. His foot tore out of the crevice. Then the spring of the lariat around his body all but pulled the breath out of him. He was jerked up again so violently that he was flung flat against the cliff. His last instinct was to protect his face. He felt a blow on the side of the head, and began to drop away into a cold, ringing darkness. At intervals he heard Esmeralda Charley's voice, calling faintly from a great distance. He became aware of intense pain in his head, increasing with the increasing return of light, and the half-breed's voice seemed to be getting louder again. He must be drawing nearer. Carron languidly opened his eyes.
He was looking down into the sand and water, still some feet below. The side of his head that ached still rested upon the face of the rock. Vaguely astonished he rolled his head around and saw before him the mountain as a great silhouette, a wall upon the blinding sky; and opening through it, looking softly upon him, was that blue eye of distance.
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