on. Like struggling up these hills.
Despite the change in altitude, the character of the forest changed but slightly. There were fewer of the towering trees that Barrett had labeled emergents, more thick bushes and scrub growth. They came to the small canyon just after midday.
It was small because it was not even a hundred meters high, and the stream that ran through it was barely a rivulet. That made it no less impassable. The walls were almost sheer on both sides and ran for kilometers in both directions. It might as well have been a thousand meters deep. They could not climb down.
“Well,” said Albright with hopeful finality, “that’s that. There’s no way we can get down this wall. Even if we could, somehow, there’s certainly no way we could get up the other side. We’ll have to turn back.”
“You’re a fountain of joy, aren’t you, Albright,” commented Murin. Isabel looked from the chemist to Barrett.
“Is that true, Mr. Barrett? Will we?”
“Well now,” he replied, surveying the far side, “that all depends, Izzy.”
“Depends? On what?”
“On how afraid of heights you are, and how good my arm is. Mur!”
Albright and Kobenene watched curiously. The latter had checked all their cases by now, discreetly, and had seen nothing like the climbing equipment they would need for such a descent and ascent. No crampons, no pitons or rock hammers, nothing.
One of the leather-covered boxes yielded a single thick coil of glistening nylon cord. It was followed by a short, stubby metal bar. Murin fooled with the bar and one end opened like an iron flower. Three sharp barbed prongs clicked, locked into place.
Barrett shifted the coil to rest loosely on his left arm. He walked to the edge of the gorge and planted himself firmly, left foot forward. He began to whirl the grappling hook over his head, letting out line slowly, moving it in wider and wider arcs. It made basso whooshing sounds in the air.
Faster, faster, then—throw!
The hook clunked against the far side just below the bank and dropped. Barrett hauled it up, carefully recoiling the line. Murin walked over.
“Want me to try, George?”
“Naw, not yet, partner. I can make it. Just didn’t get my arm up on the release.”
The helicoptering noise was repeated. The triple hook spun through the air, was released, and fell on the far side, well clear of the edge. Barrett tugged, yanked. It seemed set. He and Murin wrapped the near end a dozen times around the trunk of the biggest tree near the edge, about three meters off the ground. The cord now ran on a slant from the tree to the distant bank.
“Ready?” asked Murin. “I’ll get the basket.”
“Just a sec,” cautioned George. “Might as well make sure, hey?”
He wrapped both hands tightly around the smooth nylon and put one foot into nothingness. Isabel gasped. The other foot went over and he hung free. He jerked once on the cord, twice.
And disappeared.
Isabel screamed and everyone rushed forward. Murin was first to the edge, but felt less panic than the others. Except Albright and Kobenene, of course, who’s emotions were of a radically different character.
Barrett hadn’t fallen far. He was wrapped around the rope like a snake only a meter below the lip of the canyon. A couple of quick pulls brought him up. He smiled.
“What are you all staring at? That’s why I did it. The hook wasn’t fixed properly on the other side,” he concluded in mild understatement.
The line was brought up again and a third time the hook whistled over Barrett’s head. He heaved up and out and the prongs soared across to drop in the brush on the other side.
This time all the hanging and jerking Barrett could manage, and then he and Murin together, didn’t even bring any fresh slack into the cord. It seemed securely set.
Murin picked up the basket, a sling composed of nylon cord with a tiny leather seat and a snap shackle on top.
“You mean that’s all there is to it?” queried
Despite the change in altitude, the character of the forest changed but slightly. There were fewer of the towering trees that Barrett had labeled emergents, more thick bushes and scrub growth. They came to the small canyon just after midday.
It was small because it was not even a hundred meters high, and the stream that ran through it was barely a rivulet. That made it no less impassable. The walls were almost sheer on both sides and ran for kilometers in both directions. It might as well have been a thousand meters deep. They could not climb down.
“Well,” said Albright with hopeful finality, “that’s that. There’s no way we can get down this wall. Even if we could, somehow, there’s certainly no way we could get up the other side. We’ll have to turn back.”
“You’re a fountain of joy, aren’t you, Albright,” commented Murin. Isabel looked from the chemist to Barrett.
“Is that true, Mr. Barrett? Will we?”
“Well now,” he replied, surveying the far side, “that all depends, Izzy.”
“Depends? On what?”
“On how afraid of heights you are, and how good my arm is. Mur!”
Albright and Kobenene watched curiously. The latter had checked all their cases by now, discreetly, and had seen nothing like the climbing equipment they would need for such a descent and ascent. No crampons, no pitons or rock hammers, nothing.
One of the leather-covered boxes yielded a single thick coil of glistening nylon cord. It was followed by a short, stubby metal bar. Murin fooled with the bar and one end opened like an iron flower. Three sharp barbed prongs clicked, locked into place.
Barrett shifted the coil to rest loosely on his left arm. He walked to the edge of the gorge and planted himself firmly, left foot forward. He began to whirl the grappling hook over his head, letting out line slowly, moving it in wider and wider arcs. It made basso whooshing sounds in the air.
Faster, faster, then—throw!
The hook clunked against the far side just below the bank and dropped. Barrett hauled it up, carefully recoiling the line. Murin walked over.
“Want me to try, George?”
“Naw, not yet, partner. I can make it. Just didn’t get my arm up on the release.”
The helicoptering noise was repeated. The triple hook spun through the air, was released, and fell on the far side, well clear of the edge. Barrett tugged, yanked. It seemed set. He and Murin wrapped the near end a dozen times around the trunk of the biggest tree near the edge, about three meters off the ground. The cord now ran on a slant from the tree to the distant bank.
“Ready?” asked Murin. “I’ll get the basket.”
“Just a sec,” cautioned George. “Might as well make sure, hey?”
He wrapped both hands tightly around the smooth nylon and put one foot into nothingness. Isabel gasped. The other foot went over and he hung free. He jerked once on the cord, twice.
And disappeared.
Isabel screamed and everyone rushed forward. Murin was first to the edge, but felt less panic than the others. Except Albright and Kobenene, of course, who’s emotions were of a radically different character.
Barrett hadn’t fallen far. He was wrapped around the rope like a snake only a meter below the lip of the canyon. A couple of quick pulls brought him up. He smiled.
“What are you all staring at? That’s why I did it. The hook wasn’t fixed properly on the other side,” he concluded in mild understatement.
The line was brought up again and a third time the hook whistled over Barrett’s head. He heaved up and out and the prongs soared across to drop in the brush on the other side.
This time all the hanging and jerking Barrett could manage, and then he and Murin together, didn’t even bring any fresh slack into the cord. It seemed securely set.
Murin picked up the basket, a sling composed of nylon cord with a tiny leather seat and a snap shackle on top.
“You mean that’s all there is to it?” queried
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