t as utterly indifferent toward fate as his words signified. Deeply
conscious of a life long ago irretrievably wrecked, everything behind a
chaos, everything before worthless,--for years he had been actually
seeking death; a hundred times he had gladly marked its apparent
approach, a smile of welcome upon his lips. Yet it had never quite
succeeded in reaching him, and nothing had been gained beyond a
reputation for cool, reckless daring, which he did not in the least
covet. But now, miracle of all miracles, just as the end seemed
actually attained, seemed beyond any possibility of being turned aside,
he began to experience a desire to live--he wanted to save this girl.

His keenly observant eyes, trained by the exigencies of his trade to
take note of small things, and rendered eager by this newly awakened
ambition, scanned the cliff towering above them. He perceived the
extreme irregularity of its front, and numerous peculiarities of
formation which had escaped him hitherto. Suddenly his puzzled face
brightened to the birth of an idea. By heavens! it might be done!
Surely it might be done! Inch by inch he traced the obscure passage,
seeking to impress each faint detail upon his memory--that narrow ledge
within easy reach of an upstretched arm, the sharp outcropping of
rock-edges here and there, the deep gash as though some giant axe had
cleaved the stone, those sturdy cedars growing straight out over the
chasm like the bowsprits of ships, while all along the way, irregular
and ragged, varied rifts not entirely unlike the steps of a crazy
staircase.

The very conception of such an exploit caused his flesh to creep. But
he was not of that class of men who fall back dazed before the face of
danger. Again and again, led by an impulse he was unable to resist, he
studied that precipitous rock, every nerve tingling to the newborn
hope. God helping them, even so desperate a deed might be
accomplished, although it would test the foot and nerve of a Swiss
mountaineer. He glanced again uneasily toward his companion, and saw
the same motionless figure, the same sober face turned deliberately
away. Hampton did not smile, but his square jaw set, and he clinched
his hands. He had no fear that she might fall him, but for the first
time in all his life he questioned his own courage.

CHAPTER III

BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH

The remainder of that day, as well as much of the gloomy night
following, composed a silent,