looked like hills that had been sawn in half--one half taken, the
other left.

Our ponies were gaining on Archie's. The boy had given his its head, but
it was evident he was now aware of his danger and was trying to rein in.
Trying, but trying in vain. The pony was in command of the situation.

On--on--on they rush. I can feel my heart beating wildly against my ribs
as we all come nigher and nigher to the cliffs. Donald's pony and Dugald's
both overtake me. Their saddles are empty. My brothers have both been
unhorsed. I think not of that, all my attention is bent on the rider
ahead. If he could but turn his pony's head even now, he would be saved.
But no, it is impossible. They are on the cliff. There! they are over it,
and a wild scream of terror seems to rend the skies and turn my blood to
water.

[Illustration: 'Look! He is Over!']

But lo! I, too, am now in danger. My pony has the bit fast between his
teeth. He means to play at an awful game--follow my leader! I feel dizzy;
I have forgotten that I might fling myself off even at the risk of broken
bones. I am close to the cliff--I--hurrah! I am saved! Saved at the very
moment when it seemed nothing could save me, for dear Flora has dashed in
front of me--has cut across my bows, as sailors would say, striking my
pony with all the strength of her arm as she is borne along. Saved, yes,
but both on the ground. I extricate myself and get up. Our ponies are all
panting; they appear now to realize the fearfulness of the danger, and
stand together cowed and quiet. Poor Flora is very pale, and blood is
trickling from a wound in her temple, while her habit is torn and soiled.
We have little time to notice this; we must ride round and look for the
body of poor Archie.

It was a ride of a good mile to reach the cliff foot, but it took us but a
very short time to get round, albeit the road was rough and dangerous. We
had taken our bearings aright, but for a time we could see no signs of
those we had come to seek. But presently with her riding-whip Flora
pointed to a deep black hole in the slimy bog.

'They are there!' she cried; then burst into a flood of tears.

We did the best we could to comfort our little sister, and were all
returning slowly, leading our steeds along the cliff foot, when I stumbled
against something lying behind a tussock of grass.

The something moved and spoke when I bent down. It was poor Archie, who
had escaped from the morass as if by a miracle