braced himself and lowered one end. "Don't be afraid; I won't let it slip."
"You—you vill hol' fas'?" asked the guerilla, suspiciously.
"Yes."
"I am von heafy man."
"I can manage you, if you don't get caught on the rocks. Now then, if you want me to pull you up."
The end of the strap dangled directly in front of the guerilla, and feeling that he could not remain where he was forever, he made a wild clutch at it and held on like grim death.
The load was a heavy one, and had not Gilbert been able to twist one foot fast in a gnarled tree root, he must certainly have been pulled over into the ravine on top of the guerilla. As it was, the straps strained and cracked, as if ready to snap in two, and every inch of gain had to be bought at the cost of sheer muscular power. But at last the head of the guerilla came over the ravine bank, and then he readily helped himself to a place of safety.
"You've had a narrow escape—" began Gilbert.
Instead of replying, the guerilla chief scowled
