"It is that cut-throat and blockhead,
Jumping Frog, who has been throw down that stone! But
what need to worry! Either it will squeeze us like to
the jelly-fish or the flat-fish, or it will jump over
our heads and do no harm--"

He pressed her to earth with one strong hand as the great
rock struck the ground a few feet short of them and
bounded over their heads. A warm, sulphurous odour came
from the place of concussion. An avalanche of small
stones rattled all around them. It was a narrow escape
truly, and the very thought of it almost turned Dorothy
sick. She saw the rock ricochet down the steep slope and
plunge with a mighty splash into the blue waters far
below.

How they got to the bottom Dorothy was never able to
determine. She only knew that when she got there her
boots were torn to pieces, and any respectable dealer in
rags would hardly have demeaned himself by bidding for
her clothes. Pepin was a curious sight, for his garments
looked like so many tattered signals of distress.

The two found themselves in a great gloomy canyon with
frowning sides and a broad, leaden-hued river surging at
its foot.

But the canoe, where was it? Had it been sunk by the rock
from above? If so, they had absolutely no hope of escape.

But Pepin's sharp eyes saw it riding securely in a little
bay under a jutting rock. Dorothy and he hurried down to
it. There was a narrow strip of sand, and the water was
shallow just there. The painter was wound round a sharp
rock, and they pulled the canoe to them. Just at that
moment a shower of rocks and _debris_ passed within a
few feet of them and plunged into the water, throwing up
a snow-white geyser.

"Jump in, my dear," cried Pepin, "we will escape them
yet, and that fool of a Jumping Frog will swing at the
end of a long rope or die like a coyote with a bullet
through his stupid head."

Dorothy got in, and Pepin rolled in bodily after her.
He seized the paddle, seated himself near the bow, and
dipped his blade into the eddying flood. "Now then,
Mam'selle, have the big heart of courage and the good
God will help. One, two!"

The canoe shot out into the stream. Like a child's paper
boat or a withered leaf it was caught up and whirled
away. There was a look of exultation on the dwarfs face;
his dark eyes flashed with excitement.

"Courage, my dear!" he cried again. "Move not, and do
not be afraid. Think of the good father and the sweetheart
who will meet you at the Croisettes