There was quite a pronounced slant; the top of the
wall was, at a guess, ten feet farther back than the foot. His
gaze first sought the strange opening three-fourths of the way to
the top,--a matter of eighty or ninety feet above the spot on which
he stood. There it was,--a deep, black gash in the solid rock,
rendered narrow by fore-shortening and a slightly protruding brow.
He could think of nothing more analogous than an open mouth with
a thick upper lip and the nether lip drawn in.
Then he saw what surprised him even more,--something that none of
the chroniclers had mentioned: a series of hand-cut niches up the
face of the cliff, leading directly to the mouth of the cave. He had
been given to understand that there was no other means of reaching
Quill's Window save from the top of the rock. These niches or
"hand-holds" were about two feet apart. He examined the lower ones.
They were deeply chiselled, affording a substantial foothold as
well as a grip for a strong, resolute climber. Most of them were
packed with dirty, wind blown leaves from the trees nearby,--so
tightly packed by the furious rains that beat against the rock
that he had difficulty in removing the substance. Higher up they
appeared to be quite clean and free from obstruction.
He scraped the leaves out of five or six of the slits, one after
the other, as he climbed a short distance up the wall.
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