But Van der Kemp shook his head.  “I cannot even make the attempt,” he said.  “The slightest move would plunge me down.  Dear boy!  I know that you and your father and Moses will care for my Winnie, and—­”

“Massa!” gasped Moses, who while the hermit was speaking had been working his body with mysterious and violent energy; “massa! couldn’t you fall dis way, an’ Nadgel could kitch your hand, an’ I’s got my leg shoved into a hole as nuffin’ ’ll haul it out ob.  Dere’s a holler place here.  If Nadgel swings you into dat, an’ I only once grab you by de hair—­you’re safe!”

“It might be done—­tried at least,” said the hermit, looking anxiously at his young friend.

“Try it!” cried Nigel, “I won’t fail you.”

It is not possible for any except those who have gone through a somewhat similar ordeal to understand fully the test of cool courage which Van der Kemp had to undergo on that occasion.

Shutting his eyes for a moment in silent prayer, he deliberately worked with his shoulders upon the cliff against which he leaned until he felt himself to be on the point of falling towards his friend, and the two outstretched hands almost touched.

“Now, are you ready?” he asked.

“Ready,” replied Nigel, while Moses wound both his powerful arms round his comrade’s waist and held on.

Another moment and the hands clasped, Nigel uttered an irrepressible shout as the hermit swung off, and, coming round with great violence to the spot where the negro had fixed himself, just succeeded in catching the edge of the cliff with his free hand.

“Let go, Nigel,” he shouted;—­“safe!”

The poor youth was only too glad to obey, for the tremendous pull had wrenched his arm out of the crevice in which he had fixed it, and for a moment he swayed helplessly over the awful abyss.

“Don’t let me go, Moses!” he yelled, as he made a frantic but futile effort to regain his hold,—­for he felt that the negro had loosened one of his arms though the other was still round him like a hoop of iron.

“No fear, Nadgel,” said Moses, “I’s got you tight—­only don’ wriggle.  Now, massa, up you come.”

Moses had grasped his master’s hair with a grip:  that well-nigh scalped him, and he held on until the hermit had got a secure hold of the ledge with both hands.  Then he let the hair go, for he knew that to an athlete like his master the raising himself by his arms on to the ledge would be the Work of a few seconds.  Van der Kemp was thus able to assist in rescuing Nigel from his position of danger.

But the expressions of heartfelt thankfulness for this deliverance which naturally broke from them were abruptly checked when it was found that Moses could by no means extract his leg out of the hole into which he had thrust it, and that he was suffering great pain.

After some time, and a good deal of violent wrenching, during which our sable hero mingled a few groans in strange fashion with his congratulations, he was got free, and then it was found that the strain had been too much for even his powerful bones and sinews, for the leg was broken.