I looked at him with wonder. He leaped past
me, with a forced agility, and sprang on upward. I followed with
lightness born of thought, with which the true Martians move.
"On, on, we sped. The narrowing path carried us up until one of those
gaps I had noticed came in view. Chapman stopped, and then hearing my
approaching steps, ran forward and jumped. His calculation and strength
were yet secure and adequate. He safely passed the first break in the
pathway, and, as I crossed it with a wide leap, we both still sped on
upon an even narrower shelf, which also was more steeply inclined
about the jutting prominences of the rocky cliff.
"The next gap was reached, and now the edge of the succeeding length of
pathway was not only farther away, but higher up. Chapman, I could see
imperfectly, because of a slim projection in my way, had reached the
lower side, and, hesitatingly, drew backward. It was his preparation for
the leap. He launched forward. I rushed precipitately upward, feeling
the air about me vibrating, it seemed, with an impending disaster.
Chapman had landed on the further side of the break, but the cruel,
treacherous rock crumbled beneath his impact, and I saw his staggering
form turning backward. Another instant and his descending body was below
me, plunging to the floor of the abyss. I turned, and then, my son, I
felt the marvel of the mind's creative power over matter. I wished
myself at the bottom of the quarry where Chapman had fallen, and
although the movement of the translation down the pathway seemed
apparent, yet I was scarcely parted from him an instant before I was
standing and leaning over him in a group of astonished workmen, at the
very spot where he lay.
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