The simplest way would have been for me to take to the water and
swim across to Harry, counting on his voice as a guide; but the
conflicting echoes produced by the slightest sound rendered such
an attempt dangerous.
I crept along that wet, slimy, treacherous surface, it seemed,
for hours. I could see nothing--absolutely nothing; everything
was black void; it was hard to appreciate reality in such a
nightmare. On the one side, nameless dangers; on the other, the
unseen, bottomless lake; enough, surely, to take a man's nerve.
My fear for Harry killed anxiety on my own account. We kept
continually calling:
"Harry!"
"Yes."
"Steady."
"Yes. I'm coming along. I say, we're closer, Paul."
I hesitated to agree with him, but finally there was no longer
any doubt of it. His voice began to reach me almost in natural
tones, which meant that we were near enough for the vibrations to
carry without interference from the walls.
Nearer still it came; it was now only a matter of a few feet;
Harry gave a cry of joy, and immediately afterward I heard his
low gasp of terror and the sound of his wild scrambling to regain
a foothold.
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