Immediately in front of us was a chasm several feet across. Harry
cried to Desiree, "Can you make it?" and she shook her head,
pointing to her injured foot.
"To me!" I shouted desperately; they were coming down from above
despite my efforts to hold them back.
Then, in answer to a call from Harry, I turned and leaped across
the chasm, throwing the spears ahead of me. Harry took Desiree in
his arms and swung her far out; I braced myself for the shock and
caught her on my feet.
I set her down unhurt, and a minute later Harry had joined us and
we were scrambling up the face of a boulder nearly perpendicular,
while the spears fell thick around us.
Desiree lost her footing and fell against Harry, who rolled to
the bottom, pawing for a hold. I turned, but he shouted: "Go on;
I'll make it!" Soon he was again at my side, and in another
minute we had gained the top of the boulder, quite flat and some
twenty feet square. We commanded Desiree to lie flat on the
ground to avoid the spears from below, and paused for a breath
and a survey of the situation.
It can be described only with the word chaotic.
The light of the urns were now hidden from us, and we were in
comparative darkness, though we could see with a fair amount of
clearness.
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