he had been caught almost miraculously on the out-curving trunks of two
or three young pine trees growing close together and springing from a
narrow out-cropping ledge of rock. It was not so very far down, at most
not more than thirty feet. "Harry," she cried, "Harry," sending her
voice ringing down the chasm; but he did not even stir at the sound,
only the narrow walls gave back the echoes. The silence struck the chill
of a new terror to her heart, and she sprang to her feet, gazing wildly
about her in every direction.

"I must have help. I must have help," she muttered. But, oh, it would
take so long to get men from the camp, and all the time she would be
gone he would be lying there silent and motionless, perhaps--no, she
shuddered, she would not even think the word.

Once more she sent her seeking, despairing gaze over the hillside, and
then uttered a sharp, muffled exclamation, for, rising above the jagged
walls of the ravine, and not many feet away, climbing, agilely and
rapidly, she saw a man. A moment more and she bent forward in a state
half of relief and half of superstitious terror, muttering a prayer,
almost believing that it was a vision; and then, with a relief beyond
all speech, she saw that it was José. She could not be mistaken.

He had pulled himself over the cliff by this time and had cautiously
risen to his feet. Up and down the hill and in every direction he sent
his sweeping, careful gaze, his far-sighted eyes taking in every detail
of the landscape. Then he came toward Pearl, over the bare, brown
earth, running low.

"Oh, José, José," she cried, almost hysterical in her relief, "Harry is
down there," pointing to the cliff, "hurt, and you must help me get him