ave come!"

Wendot could not see the child, though every word she spoke was
distinctly audible. He certainly could not reach her from the place
where he now stood; but the hounds had been following the tracks of the
quarry they had been scenting all this way, and stood baying at a
certain spot some fifty yards away, and a little lower down than the
apex of the crag. It was long since Wendot had visited this spot, his
brothers knew it better than he; but when he got to the place indicated
by the dogs, he saw that there was a little precipitous path along the
face of the cliff, which, although very narrow and not a little
dangerous, did give foothold to an experienced mountaineer. How the
child had ever had the nerve to tread it he could not imagine, but
undoubtedly she was there, and he must get her back, if possible, and
down the mountainside, before those armed men from the upper valley
could reach them.

But could he do this? He cast an apprehensive glance over his shoulder,
and saw to his dismay how quickly they were approaching. From their
quickened pace he fancied that his own movements had been observed.
Certainly there was not a moment to lose, and leaving the dogs to keep
guard at the entrance, he set his foot upon the perilous path and
carefully pursued his way.

The face of the cliff jutted outwards for some yards, and then made a
sharp turn round an angle. At the spot where this turn occurred, a sort
of natural arch had formed itself over the narrow ledge which formed the
path, and immediately behind the arch there was a small plateau which
gave space to stand and move with some freedom, although a step over the
edge would plunge the unwary victim into the deep gulf beneath. The
cliff then fell away once again, but the ledge wound round it still,
until it ended in a shallow alcove some eight feet deep, which lay just
beneath the highest part of the crag, which overhung it by many yards.

And it was crouched up against the cliff in this little alcove that
Wendot found Gertrude; cowering, white-faced, against the hard rock,
faint from want of food, terrified at the loneliness and at her own
fears for the safety of her companions, and so overwrought by the
tension of nerve she had undergone, that when Wendot did stand beside
her she could only cling to him sobbing passionately, and it was long
before he could even induce her to let him go, or to attempt to eat the
contents of a small package he had had the f