Life in the Eagle's Nest by Charlotte Maria Tucker

We must return to Dermot Denis, clinging to his rope, and descending on his perilous way.

Dangerous it was, that he knew; but his bold and buoyant spirit was full of hope, as soon as by violent effort he had succeeded in squeezing his body through the window. He clambered down as rapidly as he could, for the doubt soon forced itself on his mind whether his arms, whose muscles were unaccustomed to that peculiar kind of effort, could support the weight of his body for any great length of time. The knots were in one way a help, affording small projections for the feet; but they made it impossible for the rope to slip rapidly through his hands, as cordage through those of a sailor. Denis intuitively counted them as he passed them; each knot was a step towards freedom, but their number was appalling. Denis had, he knew, made two hundred and fifteen knots; his arms ached before he had passed twenty. He could dimly distinguish the outline of the top of the fort cutting the blue sky above him; if he attempted to glance downwards, there was nothing but darkness beneath -- he seemed to be descending into unfathomable space! Down, down, down! Eighty knots were passed; the tension of the muscles now was agony, but Denis did not dare to let go. He could hardly even guess how far he was from the bottom; he was alarmed to see how small a space he seemed to have placed between himself and the top. The climber feared that he could not have gone half the distance, and he was as one on the rack! Desperately the bold Irishman held on his way; ninety-seven, ninety-eight, ninety-nine, then he felt the knot which he now grasped not like the rest; it was slipping -- giving way -- oh horror! the next moment the unfortunate Denis was dashed to the bottom! With characteristic carelessness he had not fully tested one knot, -- _only one_, -- and that carelessness cost him his life!