I _must_ go on now, for I cannot go back." It was plain sailing for a few minutes.

The flinty excrescences were as numerous as ever, and he never paused in his ascent until prudence whispered that it was wise to take another breathing spell.

It was a source of infinite comfort to feel that when he thus checked himself he was not compelled to do so for lack of support.
There was no way of determining how far he had climbed, and he based his calculation on hope rather than knowledge.

The roar of the canyon was notably fainter, and, when he looked aloft, the ribbon of starlit sky appeared nearer than at first.

There could be no doubt that he was making his ascent at the most favorable point, for the height was much less than at most of the other places, and he believed this was the portion where Hank Hazletine had climbed from the bottom to the top of the gorge.