“All right. Loop it around you under your arms. Make sure to use a knot that doesn’t slip. Use a bowline or a square knot or something,” he called down.

“I knew being a Brownie would come in handy some day. I finally get to tie a square knot,” she shouted.

Her voice echoed dully in the leaden air, bouncing between the sides of the well like a tennis ball gone flat. He felt tugging at the other end of the rope; at first faint, then stronger, as if a fish were taking the line. It seemed to take a long time until she called up that she was ready.

The Scorpion flinched as he grabbed the rope. He was literally holding her life in his hands, he told himself. He couldn’t let go. No, he wouldn’t let go, he vowed. He would obliterate any thought of letting go, remembering Sheikh Zaid’s ancient prayer from the Holy Koran: “I seek refuge in the Lord of men from the mischief of the slinking prompter who whispers in the hearts of men.”

“Hang on, Kelly,” he shouted down and pulled, taking her weight in his hands and across his back. The strain was unbelievable and he could barely manage the weight. He pulled with his left arm and shoulder and pushed with his right. Then he stamped his feet against the few precious inches of slack he had gained. He slid his hands back to their original position and pulled again, twisting his shoulders as well to gain a few more inches.

The rope left a trail of fire across his shoulders and back. The strain on his spine felt like one of his vertebrae was about to snap at any second. “I seek refuge from the slinking prompter who whispers in the hearts of men,” he repeated to himself over and over.

Suddenly, the line went slack.

“Hey, I’m taking a breather,” Kelly called, her voice much closer. She must have found a foothold, he thought excitedly, gaining all the slack he could.

He looked down and was rewarded by the sight of the lamp flame barely six feet below him. His heart leaped up. Almost there, he thought.

“I just thought I’d let you know. I’m planning to go on a diet,” Kelly called up impishly.

“Good timing,” the Scorpion managed to choke. Then he was laughing, trying to control it so he wouldn’t let her slip. She’d done it, he admitted to himself. She’d reached through to him.

The last few feet came quickly. The rope grew shorter and shorter and suddenly she was there, grabbing hold of his arm with both her hands. He heaved with every last bit of his remaining strength and she was up, slumped across him, both of them panting as if they would never get enough air.

Later, after they had caught their breath, she whispered, her lips almost touching his ear.