end had her arm round a large tree, and the woman at the other round
the body of a sixth, who was half over the cliff. A seventh and free
person, Isabel, stood at the edge, her eyes fixed on the heavy form
poised along the second verge below. No one spoke but Isabel. "She has
caught on something, and Anne is holding her," she explained, in quick
although low tones, as if afraid to disturb even the air. But while she
was speaking the two men had gone swiftly to the edge, at a little
distance below the group, and noted the position themselves.

"Let me--" began Dexter.

"No, you are too heavy," answered Heathcote. "_You_ must hold _me_."

"Yes," said Isabel. "Quick! quick!" A woman in a hurry would say
"Quick!" to the very lightning.

But if men are slow, they are sure. Heathcote stretched himself down
carefully on the other side of the little tree, but without touching it,
that being Anne's chief support, and bearing his full weight upon
Dexter, who in turn was held by the other men, who had now come up, he
seized Valeria's arm firmly above Anne's hand, and told Anne to let go
her hold. They were face to face; Anne's forehead was suffused with red,
owing to her cramped position.

"I can not; she has grasped my wrist," she answered.

"Let go, Miss Morle," called Heathcote. "I have you firmly; do you not
feel my hand?"

But Valeria would not; perhaps could not.

"Some of you take hold of Miss Douglas, then," called Heathcote to the
men above. "The girl below will not loosen her hold, and you will have
to draw us all up together."

"Ready?" called the voices above, after an instant.

"Ready," answered Heathcote.

Then he felt himself drawn upward slowly, an inch, two inches; so did
Anne. The two downward-stretched arms tightened; the one upward-lifted
arm began to rise from the body to which it belonged. But what a weight
for that one arm! Valeria was a large, heavy girl, with a ponderous
weight of bone. In the position in which she lay, it seemed probable
that her body might swing over the edge, and almost wrench the arm from
its socket by its weight.

"Stop," said Heathcote, perceiving this. The men above paused. "Are you
afraid to support her for one instant alone, Anne?" he asked.

"No," murmured Anne. Her eyes were blood-shot; she saw him through a
crimson cloud.

"Keep me firmly," he called out, warningly, to Dexter. Then, letting go
his first hold, he stretched down still farther, made a slight spri