er, the waters roar in her ears, the red sky glows above. She
sees Swanhild come and shrieks aloud.

Eric is there, though Swanhild hears him not, for the sound of his
horse's galloping feet is lost in the roar of waters. But that cry comes
to his ears, he sees the poised rock, and all grows clear to him.
He leaps from his horse, and even as she looses the stone, clutches
Swanhild's kirtle and hurls her back. The rock bounds sideways and
presently is lost in the waters.

Eric looks over. He sees Gudruda's white face gleaming in the gloom.
Down he leaps upon the ledge, though this is no easy thing.

"Hold fast! I come; hold fast!" he cries.

"I can no more," gasps Gudruda, and one hand slips.

Eric grasps the rock and, stretching downward, grips her wrist; just as
her hold loosens he grips it, and she swings loose, her weight hanging
on his arm.

Now he must needs lift her up and that with one hand, for the ledge is
narrow and he dare not loose his hold of the rock above. She swings
over the great gulf and she is senseless as one dead. He gathers all his
mighty strength and lifts. His feet slip a little, then catch, and once
more Gudruda swings. The sweat bursts out upon his forehead and his
blood drums through him. Now it must be, or not at all. Again he lifts
and his muscles strain and crack, and she lies beside him on the narrow
ledge!

All is not yet done. The brink of the cleft is the height of a man above
him. There he must lay her, for he may not leave her to find aid, lest
she should wake and roll into the chasm. Loosing his hold of the cliff,
he turns, facing the rock, and, bending over Gudruda, twists his hands
in her kirtle below the breast and above the knee. Then once more Eric
puts out his might and draws her up to the level of his breast, and
rests. Again with all his force he lifts her above the crest of his helm
and throws her forward, so that now she lies upon the brink of the great
cliff. He almost falls backward at the effort, but, clutching the rock,
he saves himself, and with a struggle gains her side, and lies there,
panting like a wearied hound of chase.

Of all trials of strength that ever were put upon his might, Eric was
wont to say, this lifting of Gudruda was the greatest; for she was no
light woman, and there was little to stand on and almost nothing to
cling to.

Presently Brighteyes rose and peered at Gudruda through the gloom. She
still swooned. Then he gazed about him--but Swa