eyes and distorted features, a face convulsed with
hatred and with the mad joy of gratified revenge.

"Lord Roxton!" he shouted. "Lord John Roxton!"

"Well," said our companion, "here I am."

A shriek of laughter came across the abyss.

"Yes, there you are, you English dog, and there you will remain! I
have waited and waited, and now has come my chance. You found it hard
to get up; you will find it harder to get down. You cursed fools, you
are trapped, every one of you!"

We were too astounded to speak. We could only stand there staring in
amazement. A great broken bough upon the grass showed whence he had
gained his leverage to tilt over our bridge. The face had vanished,
but presently it was up again, more frantic than before.

"We nearly killed you with a stone at the cave," he cried; "but this is
better. It is slower and more terrible. Your bones will whiten up
there, and none will know where you lie or come to cover them. As you
lie dying, think of Lopez, whom you shot five years ago on the Putomayo
River. I am his brother, and, come what will I will die happy now, for
his memory has been avenged." A furious hand was shaken at us, and then
all was quiet.

Had the half-breed simply wrought his vengeance and then escaped, all
might have been well with him. It was that foolish, irresistible Latin
impulse to be dramatic which brought his own downfall. Roxton, the man
who had earned himself the name of the Flail of the Lord through three
countries, was not one who could be safely taunted. The half-breed was
descending on the farther side of the pinnacle; but before he could
reach the ground Lord John had run along the edge of the plateau and
gained a point from which he could see his man. There was a single
crack of his rifle, and, though we saw nothing, we heard the scream and
then the distant thud of the falling body. Roxton came back to us with
a face of granite.

"I have been a blind simpleton," said he, bitterly, "It's my folly
that has brought you all into this trouble. I should have remembered
that these people have long memories for blood-feuds, and have been
more upon my guard."

"What about the other one? It took two of them to lever that tree over
the edge."

"I could have shot him, but I let him go. He may have had no part in
it. Perhaps it would have been better if I had killed him, for he
must, as you say, have lent a hand."

Now that we had the clue to his action, each o