now stood him in good stead. And he had back of him, to urge him,
every incentive in the shape of love and duty that could move humanity
to godlike deed.

Along the base of the mountain the trail was not difficult although it
was pitch-dark under the trees which, except where the mighty cliffs
rose sheer in the air like huge buttresses of the range, covered the
mountains for the whole expanse of their great altitude, therefore he
made his way upward without trouble or accident at first. The moon's
rays could not pierce the density of the tropic foliage, of course, but
Alvarado was very familiar with this easier portion of the way, for he
had often traversed it on hunting expeditions, and he made good progress
for several hours in spite of the obscurity.

It had been long past midnight when he started, and it was not until
daybreak that he passed above the familiar and not untrodden way and
entered upon the most perilous part of his journey. The gray dawn
revealed to him the appalling dangers he must face.

Sometimes clinging with iron grasp to pinnacles of rock, he swung
himself along the side of some terrific precipice, where the slightest
misstep meant a rush into eternity upon the rocks a thousand feet below.
Sometimes he had to spring far across great gorges in the mountains that
had once been bridged by mighty trunks of trees, long since moldered
away. Sometimes there was nothing for him to do but to scramble down the
steep sides of some dark canyon and force himself through cold torrential
mountain streams that almost swept him from his feet. Again his path lay
over cliffs green with moss and wet with spray, which afforded most
precarious support to his grasping hands or slipping feet. Sometimes he
had to force a way through thick tropic undergrowth that tore his
clothing into rags.

Had he undertaken the ascent in a mere spirit of adventure he would have
turned back long since from the dangers he met and surmounted with such
hardship and difficulty; but he was sustained by the thought of the
dreadful peril of the woman he loved, the remembrance of the sufferings
of the hapless townspeople, and a consuming desire for revenge upon the
man who had wrought this ruin on the shore. With the pale, beautiful
face of Mercedes to lead him, and by contrast the hateful, cruel
countenance of Morgan to force him, ever before his vision, the man
plunged upward with unnatural strength, braving dangers, taking chances,
doing