With the agility of a cat he jumped up the ladder.

Once started, he had to go on.

He afterwards confessed to an unpleasant sensation of pins and needles along his back during that brief acrobatic display; but he reached the ledge without further injury, save an agonizing twinge when the unprotected quick of his damaged finger was smartly rapped against the rock.
These things happened with the speed of thought.

Within forty seconds of Iris's shrill cry the sailor was breast high with the ledge and calling to her-- "All right, old girl.

Keep it up!" The cheerful confidence of his words had a wonderful effect on her.
Iris, like every good woman, had the maternal instinct strong within her--the instinct that inspires alike the mild-eyed Sister of Charity and the tigress fighting for her cubs.