ain glanced
downward to the unmeasured [v]abyss beneath. He softly let himself sink
into a sitting posture, his heels dangling over the frightful depths,
and addressed himself resolutely to the consideration of the terrible
danger in which he was placed.

Taken at its best, how long was it to last? Could he look to any human
being for deliverance? He reflected with growing dismay that the place
was far from any dwelling, and from the road that wound along the ridge.
There was no errand that could bring a man to this most unfrequented
portion of the deep woods, unless an accident should hither direct some
hunter's step. It was quite possible, nay, probable, that years might
elapse before the forest solitude would again be broken by human
presence.

His brothers would search for him when he should be missed from
home,--but such boundless stretches of forest! They might search for
weeks and never come near this spot. He would die here, he would
starve,--no, he would grow drowsy when exhausted and fall--fall--fall!

He was beginning to feel that morbid fascination that sometimes seizes
upon those who stand on great heights,--an overwhelming impulse to
plunge downward. His only salvation was to look up. He would look up to
the sky.

And what were these words he was beginning to remember faintly? Had not
the [v]circuit-rider said in his last sermon that not even a sparrow
falls to the ground unmarked of God? There was a definite strength in
this suggestion. He felt less lonely as he stared resolutely at the big
blue sky. There came into his heart a sense of encouragement, of hope.
He would keep up as long and as bravely as he could, and if the worst
should come,--was he indeed so solitary? He would hold in remembrance
the sparrow's fall of Scripture.

He had so nerved himself to meet his fate that he thought it was a fancy
when he heard a distant step. But it did not die away, it grew more and
more distinct,--a shambling step that curiously stopped at intervals and
kicked the fallen leaves.

He sought to call out, but he seemed to have lost his voice. Not a sound
issued from his thickened tongue and his dry throat. The step came
nearer. It would presently pass. With a mighty effort Ethan sent forth
a wild, hoarse cry.

The rocks [v]reverberated it, the wind carried it far, and certainly
there was an echo of its despair and terror in a shrill scream set up on
the verge of the crag. Then Ethan heard the shambling step