THE STRAND MAGAZINE. 
27D 
its victor. ITis whole being rose up in 
protest. 
“ It's not fair climbing ! ” he cried. “ We 
have not even tried to find out if the Rocker — 
still rocks ! ” 
O’Rorke looked inquiringly at Lahn. The 
guide smiled — almost disdainfully. 
The Rocker always rocks,” he said. “ That 
has been proved, alas ! too often for mistake.” 
No ! persisted Carthew, doggedly. “ It 
may alter with weather conditions. Look 
at the new-formed ice below it, supporting 
it.” 
“ Supporting it on this side,” agreed the 
guide. “ On the far side— the side which 
tilts — it has no support but empty air.” 
a I mean to try honest climbing before we 
descend to— to acrobatics ! ” retorted Carthew, 
savagely, and moved forward. With a shrug 
of the shoulder O’Rorke stood aside to let 
him pass. 
“ Try by all means ! ” he assented. “ Mean- 
while I’ll try, too. He whirled the rawhide 
loop around his head again and launched it 
through the air. And this time with full 
success. The noose sank round the upthrust 
tusk of rock and settled into position. The 
link between the climbers and their goal was 
established. 
O’Rorke turned, and as he did so heard 
Lahn’s voice uplifted in anger. Carthew, 
still roped, was scrambling on to the Rocker’s 
edge. The guide was holding the rope and 
protesting veh e m e ntly . 
tk It is dangerous — dangerous ! ” he cried. 
“ If the Herr unseats the rock he unseats the 
ice beneath it. If that falls there will be 
disaster 1 ” lie plucked at the rope to 
emphasize his warning. 
Carthew paid no attention. lie pressed 
forward a pace at a time, testing, as it were, 
the strain he put upon his foothold. Then 
he turned, and over his shoulder laughed 
triumphantly. 
It’s firm — firm as a dining-room table ! ” 
he declared. 
In the same moment, opening with the 
sudden fierceness with which a wild beast 
opens its jaws, a huge mouth, as it were, 
gaped between the Rocker and its pedestal. 
The great stone tilted downwards towards 
the abyss and Carthew was flung upon his 
face. With a cry of rage, Lahn hauled him 
violently back. 
Carthew. with no control over his motions, 
slid towards the others and the stone sank 
back upon its pedestal. But with a crash the 
huge lump of ice which had filled the shadowed 
crevice below it broke away. It fell upon 
Lahn, sweeping his feet from under him. He 
reeled down upon Muriel. 
For a moment she swayed, fighting gallantly 
to keep her footing, but Carthew, dragged 
over by the guide’s weight, was flung down 
upon her in his turn. The disaster was com- 
plete. 
O’Rorke released his hold of the rawhide 
and sprang forward, but too late. The other 
three, snatched from his grasp before it 
could reach them, swept down the icy slope 
towards the abyss. Ilis voice pealed out in 
agony, and then — ended upon a half-choked 
gasp of relief. For the guide had not dis- 
appeared — he lay stunned but securely 
caught by one of the projections upon the 
very last verge above the immeasurable drop. 
And the rope hung from his waist still taut ! 
The others had flashed past out of sight, but 
surely there was yet a chance — a tiny, fleeting 
chance — that the tense cord spoke of one or 
both still swaying beneath that cruel brink. 
It must be so — it must ! A thousand times 
O’Rorke told himself so in a fierce whisper 
as he turned and whirled the lariat from its 
hold upon the Needle. He drew it to his 
feet, fixed it anew upon a projection at his 
side, and then, holding it and slipping reck- 
lessly from ledge to ledge, passed down the 
ice-worn slope. lie laid his hand upon 
Lahn’s shoulder. 
The guide stirred, groaned, opened his eyes. 
He made as if he would rise. O’Rorke 
pressed him back. 
“ No ! ” he thundered. “ No ! ” He made 
an emphatic gesture towards the abyss. 
“You are anchoring them ! ” he cried. 
Instantly Lahn’s expression told that he 
understood. He wedged himself yet more 
firmly against the stone. His set lips became 
a grim line of determination. 
“ Till they pull me in two ! ” he growled, 
and doggedly drew up one of his knees to get 
a purchase against the cutting strain upon 
his waist. And then, with something like a 
prayer upon his lips, O’Rorkc peered over 
the edge. 
The ecstasy of his relief was expressed in a 
ringing cry. They were there, both of them ! 
Muriel hung ten feet below. A dozen feet 
farther down again Carthew swung. Between 
the two of them one of the jagged, shelf-like 
formations ran across the face of the cliff, 
and upon this the rope, pressed inwards by 
the man’s weight, was badly frayed. 
O’Rorke gathered all the strength of his 
great thews into one concentrated effort, and 
as he pulled the guide turned, making his 
waist a sort of human capstan upon which he 
