Yet we stayed a little, looking at each other in piteous fashion, for we could not speak.  Only we embraced, and I confess, I think I wept a little.  It all seemed so sad and hopeless, these longings endured through many years, these perpetual, weary travellings, and now—­the end.  I could not bear to think of that splendid man, my ward, my most dear friend, the companion of my life, who stood before me so full of beauty and of vigour, but who must within a few short minutes be turned into a heap of quivering, mangled flesh.  For myself it did not matter.  I was old, it was time that I should die.  I had lived innocently, if it were innocent to follow this lovely image, this Siren of the caves, who lured us on to doom.

No, I don’t think that I thought of myself then, but I thought a great deal of Leo, and when I saw his determined face and flashing eyes as he nerved himself to the last endeavour, I was proud of him.  So in broken accents I blessed him and wished him well through all the aeons, praying that I might be his companion to the end of time.  In few words and short he thanked me and gave me back my blessing.  Then he muttered—­“Come.”

So side by side we began the terrible descent.  At first it was easy enough, although a slip would have hurled us to eternity.  But we were strong and skilful, accustomed to such places moreover, and made none.  About a quarter of the way down we paused, standing upon a great boulder that was embedded in the ice, and, turning round cautiously, leaned our backs against the glacier and looked about us.  Truly it was a horrible place, almost sheer, nor did we learn much, for beneath us, a hundred and twenty feet or more, the projecting bend cut off our view of what lay below.

So, feeling that our nerves would not bear a prolonged contemplation of that dizzy gulf, once more we set our faces to the ice and proceeded on the downward climb.  Now matters were more difficult, for the stones were fewer and once or twice we must slide to reach them, not knowing if we should ever stop again.  But the ropes which we threw over the angles of the rocks, or salient points of ice, letting ourselves down by their help and drawing them after us when we reached the next foothold, saved us from disaster.

Thus at length we came to the bend, which was more than half way down the precipice, being, so far as I could judge, about two hundred and fifty feet from its lip, and say one hundred and fifty from the darksome bottom of the narrow gulf.  Here were no stones, but only some rough ice, on which we sat to rest.

“We must look,” said Leo presently.

But the question was, how to do this.  Indeed, there was only one way, to hang over the bend and discover what lay below.  We read each other’s thought without the need of words, and I made a motion as though I would start.

“No,” said Leo, “I am younger and stronger than you.  Come, help me,” and he began to fasten the end of his rope to a strong, projecting point of ice.  “Now,” he said, “hold my ankles.”