CHAPTER XXXVII. HOW THE WHITE COMPANY CAME TO BE DISBANDED.

iff?” “Hadwebutarope.” “Thereisonehere.Itisbutonehundredfeetlong,andfortherestyemusttrusttoGodandtoyourfingers.Canyoutryit,Alleyne?” “Withallmyheart,mydearlord,buthowcanIleaveyouinsuchastrait?” “Nay,itistoservemethatyego.Andyou,Norbury?” Thesilentsquiresaidnothing,buthetookuptherope,and,havingexaminedit,hetiedoneendfirmlyroundaprojectingrock.Thenhecastoffhisbreast-plate,thighpieces,andgreaves,whileAlleynefollowedhisexample. “TellChandos,orCalverley,orKnolles,shouldtheprincehavegoneforward,”criedSirNigel.“NowmayGodspeedye,foryearebraveandworthymen.” Itwas,indeed,ataskwhichmightmaketheheartofthebravestsinkwithinhim.Thethincorddanglingdownthefaceofthebrowncliffseemedfromabovetoreachlittlemorethanhalf-waydownit.Beyondstretchedtheruggedrock,wetandshining,withagreentufthereandtherethrustingoutfromit,butlittlesignofridgeorfoothold.Farbelowthejaggedpointsofthebouldersbristledup,darkandmenacing.Norburytuggedthricewithallhisstrengthuponthecord,andthenloweredhimselfovertheedge,whileahundredanxiousfacespeeredoverathimasheslowlyclambereddownwardstotheendoftherope.Twicehestretchedouthisfoot,andtwicehefailedtoreachthepointatwhichheaimed,butevenasheswunghimselfforathirdeffortastonefromaslingbuzzedlikeawaspfromamidtherocksandstruckhimfulluponthesideofhishead.Hisgrasprelaxed,hisfeetslipped,andinaninstanthewasacrushedandmangledcorpseuponthesharpridgesbeneathhim. “IfIhavenobetterfortune,”saidAlleyne,leadingSirNigelaside.“Iprayyou,mydearlord,thatyouwillgivemyhumbleservicetotheLadyMaude,andsaytoherthatIwaseverhertrueservantandmostunworthycavalier.” Theoldknightsaidnoword,butheputahandoneithershoulder,andkissedhissquire,withthetearsshininginhiseyes.Alleynesprangtotherope,andslidingswiftlydown,soonfoundhimselfatitsextremity.Fromaboveitseemedasthoughropeandcliffwerewell-nightouching,butnow,whenswingingahundredfeetdown,thesquirefoundthathecouldscarcereachthefaceoftherockwithhisfoot,andthatitwasassmoothasglass,withnoresting-placewhereamousecouldstand.Somethreefeetlower,however,hiseyelituponalongjaggedcrackwhichslanteddownwards,andthishemustreachifhewouldsavenotonlyhisownpoorlife,butthatoftheeight-scoremenabovehim.Yetitweremadnesstospringforthatnarrowslitwithnoughtbutthewet,smoothrocktoclingto.Heswungforamoment,fullofthought,andevenashehungthereanotherofthehellishstonessangthroughhiscurls,andstruckachipfromthefaceofthecliff.Upheclamberedafewfeet,drewupthelooseendafterhim,unslunghisbelt,heldonwithkneeandwithelbowwhilehesplicedthelong,toughleathernbelttotheendofthecord:thenloweringhimselfasfarashecouldgo,heswungbackwardsandforwardsuntilhishandreachedthecrack,whenhelefttheropeandclungtothefaceofthecliff.Anotherstonestruckhimontheside,andheheardasoundlikeabreakingstick,withakeenstabbingpainwhichshotthroughhischest.Yetitwasnotimenowtothinkofpainorache.Therewashislordandhiseight-scorecomrades,andtheymustbepluckedfromthejawsofdeath.Onheclambered,withhishandshufflingdownthelongslopingcrack,sometimesbearingallhisweightuponhisarms,atothersfindingsomesmallshelfortuftonwhichtoresthisfoot.Wouldheneverpassoverthatfiftyfeet?Hedarednotlookdownandcouldbutgropeslowlyonwards,hisf