moon appeared, over the
edge of the mountain, and among the trees at the top of it; and then I
espied rough steps, and rocky, made as if with a sledge-hammer, narrow,
steep, and far asunder, scooped here and there in the side of the
entrance, and then round a bulge of the cliff, like the marks upon a
great brown loaf, where a hungry child has picked at it. And higher
up, where the light of the moon shone broader upon the precipice, there
seemed to be a rude broken track, like the shadow of a crooked stick
thrown upon a house-wall.

Herein was small encouragement; and at first I was minded to lie down
and die; but it seemed to come amiss to me. God has His time for all
of us; but He seems to advertise us when He does not mean to do it.
Moreover, I saw a movement of lights at the head of the valley, as if
lanthorns were coming after me, and the nimbleness given thereon to my
heels was in front of all meditation.

Straightway I set foot in the lowest stirrup (as I might almost call
it), and clung to the rock with my nails, and worked to make a jump into
the second stirrup. And I compassed that too, with the aid of my stick;
although, to tell you the truth, I was not at that time of life so agile
as boys of smaller frame are, for my size was growing beyond my years,
and the muscles not keeping time with it, and the joints of my bones not
closely hinged, with staring at one another. But the third step-hole was
the hardest of all, and the rock swelled out on me over my breast, and
there seemed to be no attempting it, until I espied a good stout rope
hanging in a groove of shadow, and just managed to reach the end of it.

How I clomb up, and across the clearing, and found my way home through
the Bagworthy forest, is more than I can remember now, for I took all
the rest of it then as a dream, by reason of perfect weariness. And
indeed it was quite beyond my hopes to tell so much as I have told, for
at first beginning to set it down, it was all like a mist before me.
Nevertheless, some parts grew clearer, as one by one I remembered them,
having taken a little soft cordial, because the memory frightens me.

For the toil of the water, and danger of labouring up the long cascade
or rapids, and then the surprise of the fair young maid, and terror of
the murderers, and desperation of getting away--all these are much to
me even now, when I am a stout churchwarden, and sit by the side of my
fire, after going through many far worse a