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Updated: June 29, 2025
Still that utter quiet, with the pulse of the sobbing lying like a weight upon the air, and the horror of the waiting mounted and grew, like peak upon peak before the eyes of the climber. "Watch for 'em sneakin' up on us through the rocks. Watch for 'em close, lads. It ain't goin' to be a rush."
But he was a trained athlete, and a skillful climber as well, and, difficult as the ascent proved to be for him, he managed it, and clambered over the sill of the window and into the room, breathless, but smiling and triumphant. "Oh, I'm so glad you're here, Charlie!" said Eleanor. "There is someone we can trust, after all, isn't there?" "Oh, sure!" he said.
"Not to stop it, of course, but spirits such as theirs might have a desire to harm it a little, and impede its advance. In any event, Dagaeoga, we shall soon see. Here is where the climber came down, and then the two went on, walking slowly. They walked slowly, because the traces indicate that they turned back often, and looked toward the point at which they had seen the smoke rising.
Severance," appealed Bessie, "you do not imagine that a real climber would exaggerate when telling of what he had done." "No; oh no. I would not go so far as to say that he would exaggerate exactly, but I have known cases where well a sort of Alpine glow came over a story that, I must confess, improved it very much.
Boucheseiche, astonished, looked attentively at the tree, then at the laughing crowd, and could not understand the situation. "If I were in your place, Collector," said Claudet, in an insinuating manner, "I should climb up there, to see " But Justin Boucheseiche was not a climber. He called a youngster, who followed the hunt as beater-up.
The poet, owing to his physical defect, was not a great climber, and we are informed, on the authority of his nurse, that he never even scaled the easily attainable summit of the "steep frowning" hill of which he has made such effective use. But the impression of it from a distance was none the less genuine.
Below us the broken ranges of green hills surged like immense billows of some Titanic sea. The fresh verdure of every field and tree made up a landscape seldom equalled in tone of color, and one which amply repaid the climber. But while some were content with looking, other true Appalachians remembered the objects of the club.
The movement so befuddled the climber that he consistently took a step backward for every step forward until at last, goaded by the huge laughter of the watching crowd, he fairly fell to the opposite side of the staircase. It was before this seductive phenomenon that the three paused.
"What is your lord's name?" said Sir Launcelot. "His name is Sir Phelot, a knight that belongeth to the king of North Wales." "Well, fair lady, since ye know my name, and require me of knighthood to help you, I will do what I may to get your hawk; and yet in truth I am an ill climber, and the tree is passing high, and few boughs to help me."
He was of a bygone generation, by his huge coat cuffs, his metal buttons, by his shoe buckles and the white stockings on his legs, which were pressed thin and sharp, as if cut out of paper. Had he been a climber, an explorer a contemporary, perhaps, of Saussure and a rival? And what had been his unrecorded fate?
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