He opened his eyes for one brief, daring glance upward. Not
more than five or six steps to go. Gritting his teeth he went on.
Now only four more ledges to grip, four more footholds to find.
A second stone whizzed past his head and struck with a crash beyond
him. He heard it whistle, he felt the rush of air.
"God! If that had got my head! What an inhuman devil he is! The
dirty beast!"
The fourth stone caught him in the side after glancing off the wall
to his left. He groaned aloud, but gripped more fiercely than ever
at his slender support. For a few seconds he could not move. Then
he reached up and felt for the next "cleat." He found it but, like
many others he had encountered, it was filled with sand and dirt.
That meant delay. He would have to dig it out with his fingers
before risking his grip on the edge. Fast and feverishly he worked.
Another stone struck below his feet.
"Hey!" he yelled. "Let up on that! Do you want to kill me? Cut it
out! I can't get away, you damned fool! You've got me cornered."
His voice was high and shrill.
The answer was another stone which grazed his leg.
A moment later he reached over and felt along the floor of the cave
for the final hold. Finding it, he drew himself up over the edge
and crawled, weak and half fainting, out of range of the devilish
marksman.
For a long time he lay still, gasping for breath.
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