er, was less simple than it looked, as is usually the case,
or rather, so appallingly simple that a slight slip, or the loosening of
a grass tussock, would send the average climber whirling into space.
But Roden Musgrave was an experienced hand on mountains, and thoroughly
understood the principle of distributing his weight. In a very short
space of time he was standing on the ledge, and had picked up the dead
bird.

"I can't throw it up," he cried, for the benefit of his companion, who,
once he had began his descent, had not been able to resist watching its
progress, and lying flat on the brink was marking every step. "It's too
heavy. I shall have to sling it around me somehow."

"Make haste and come out of that grisly position," was all she replied.

And her definition of it was not an unmerited one. The ledge was hardly
wide enough to turn upon, and from beneath they had both seen the great
rock wall, in its unbroken smoothness, considerably upwards of a hundred
feet in height.

Then with the dead eagle slung around him, he began his return, inch by
inch, step by step, holding on by every tuft of grass or projecting
stone, carefully testing each before trusting any portion of his weight
to it--she the while watching every step with a fearful fascination.

All of a sudden something gave way. One moment more, and he would have
been in safety. Roden felt himself going--going. Still, with
consummate presence of mind, he strove to distribute his weight. All in
vain. He could not recover his lost footing. He was sliding with
increased momentum, sliding to the brink of the terrible height.

Mona's blood turned to ice within her. She was too stricken even to
shriek, in the unspeakable horror of the moment. Her fingers dug into
the ground, instinctively clenched, as she lay there, gazing down, an
appalled and powerless spectator.

He, for his part, did not look up. The dust and stones slid in streams
from beneath him and leaped over the ledge into space--then his descent
stopped. He seemed to be flattening himself against the height,
clinging for all he knew how. And then, as if to add to the gloomy
depression of this horrible peril, there stole up a dark, misty cloud,
spreading its black wings around the summit of the mountain, shedding a
twilight as of fear and disaster. Mona found her voice.

"Oh, try and rest a little while and collect yourself," she said; "then
make another attempt!"

"I can't m