hurry; take your time, and don't worry." After a moment, as he got no
reply, he added: "Have you started?"

Beth had not budged her mare, for terror of what she must do. She was
fortifying all her resolution. She answered with genuine bravery:

"Yes--I--I'll do what you say."

She took up the reins. Her pale face was set, but she did not close
her eyes to cross the dizzying brink. The mare went forward--and
Elsa's bay resumed his patient tagging, up to and past the fateful
place where a part of the shelf-edge, having been dislodged, had let
Van's pony fall.

For ten age-long minutes Van waited on his ledge, feeling the
treacherous, rotted stuff break silently away beneath his feet. The
shrub, too, was showing an earthy bit of root as it slowly but
certainly relinquished its hold on the substance which the crevice had
divided. The man could almost have calculated how many seconds the
shelf and the shrub could sustain their living burden.

Then Beth returned. She had left her maid with the horses; she held
the lasso in her hand. To creep on foot along the granite bridge was
taxing the utmost of her courage. She could not ascertain precisely
where it was that the horseman was waiting below. She was guided only
by the broken ledge, where pony and all had disappeared. Therefore,
she called to him weakly.

"Mr. Van--Mr. Van--where are you?"