into stillness. Dona Isabel slipped, or stumbled, to her knees,
she balanced briefly, clutching at random while the earth and
crumbling cement gave way beneath her; then she slid forward and
disappeared, almost out from between Esteban's hands. There was a
noisy rattle of rock and pebble and a great splash far below; a
chuckle of little stones striking the water, then a faint
bubbling. Nothing more. The stepson stood in his tracks, sick,
blind with horror; he was swaying over the opening when Asensio
dragged him back.

Pancho Cueto, being a heavy sleeper, was the last to be roused by
Esteban's outcries. When he had hurriedly slipped into his clothes
in response to the pounding on his door, the few servants that the
establishment supported had been thoroughly awakened. Esteban was
shouting at them, explaining that Dona Isabel had met with an
accident. He was calling for a lantern, too, and a stout rope.
Cueto thought they must all be out of their minds until he learned
what had befallen the mistress of the house. Then, being a man of
action, he, too, issued swift orders, with the result that by the
time he and Esteban had run to the well both rope and lantern were
ready for their use. Before Esteban could form and fit a loop for
his shoulders there was sufficient help on hand to lower him into
the treacherous abyss.

It was a commentary upon Dona Isabel's character that during the
long, slow moments of uncertainty while Esteban was being lowered
the negroes exhibited more curiosity than concern over her fate.
In half-pleased excitement they whispered and giggled and muttered
together, while Pancho lay prone at the edge of the orifice,
directing them how to manipulate the rope.