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Had François found his friend? What news would he bring of them when he
came again up to the light? François' voice was heard now, faintly,
calling from the depths. But what he said could not be heard. The line of
men hauled in the rope more and more quickly and then suddenly stopped
and drew it in very gently. For they could now hear what François said.
It was but one word, persistently repeated:

"Gently! Gently!"

And so gently they drew him up toward the mouth of the crevasse. Chayne
was standing too far back to see down beyond the edge, but he could hear
François' ax clattering against the ice-walls, and the grating of his
boots. Michel, who was kneeling at the edge of the chasm, held up his
hand, and the men upon the rope ceased to haul. In a minute or two he
lowered it.

"Gently," he said, "gently," gazing downward with a queer absorption.
Chayne began to hear François' labored breathing and then suddenly at the
edge of the crevasse he saw appear the hair of a man's head.

"Up with him," cried a guide; there was a quick strong pull upon the rope
and out of the chasm, above the white level of the glacier, there


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