He had been descending, it seemed to him, fully an hour, and he must
have come down a mile, when he heard the rattle of a saber. It was so
distinct and so near that it could not be imagination. He looked in the
direction of the sound and saw two dark figures in the street. As he
stared the two figures shaped themselves into two Mexican officers.
Truth, not fancy, told him also that they were not moving. They had seen
him escaping and they would come for him! He pressed his body hard
against the stone wall, and with his hands resting upon one of the knots
clung desperately to the rope. He was hanging in an alley, and the men
were on the street at the mouth of it six or seven yards away. They were
talking and it must be about him!

He saw them create a light in some manner, and his hands almost slipped
from the rope. Then joy flooded back. They were merely lighting
cigarettes, and, with a few more words to each other, they walked on.
Ned slid slowly down, but when he came to the last knot his strength
gave way and he fell. It seemed to him that he was plunging an
immeasurable distance through depths of space. Then he struck and with
the force of the blow consciousness left him.

When he revived he found himself lying upon a rough stone pavement and
it was still dark. He saw above a narrow cleft of somber sky, and
something cold and trailing lay across his face. He shivered with
repulsion, snatched at it to throw it off, and found that it was his
rope. Then he felt of himself cautiously and fearfully, but found that
no bones were broken. Nor was he bruised to any degree and now he knew
that he could not have fallen more than two or three feet. Perhaps he
had struck first upon the little pack which he had fastened upon his
back. It reminded him that he was shoeless and coatless and undoing the
pack he reclothed himself fully.