of this flat ledge, farthest from
where the bridle-path leads down, but not a hundred yards from where we
stand, there is a sheep-track leading up the cliff. It starts where the
under-cliff dies back again into the chalk face, and climbs by slants and
elbow-turns up to the top. The shepherds call it the Zigzag, and even
sheep lose their footing on it; and of men I never heard but one had
climbed it, and that was lander Jordan, when the Excise was on his heels,
half a century back. But he that tries it stakes all on head and foot,
and a wounded bird like thee may not dare that flight. Yet, if thou art
content to hang thy life upon a hair, I will carry thee some way; and
where there is no room to carry, thou must down on hands and knees and
trail thy foot.'

It was a desperate chance enough, but came as welcome as a patch of blue
through lowering skies. 'Yes,' I said, 'dear Master Elzevir, let us get
to it quickly; and if we fall, 'tis better far to die upon the rocks
below than to wait here for them to hale us off to jail.' And with that I
tried to stand, thinking I might go dot and carry even with a broken leg.
But 'twas no use, and down I sank with a groan. Then Elzevir caught me
up, holding me in his arms, with my head looking over his back, and made
off for the Zigzag. And as we slunk along, close to the cliff-side, I
saw, between the brambles, Maskew lying with his face turned up to the
morning sky. And there was the little red hole in the middle of his
forehead, and a thread of blood that welled up from it and trickled off
on to the sward.

It was a sight to stagger any man, and would have made me swoon perhaps,
but that there was no time, for we were at the end of the under-cliff,
and Elzevir set me down for a minute, before he buckled to his task. And
'twas a task that might cow the bravest, and when I looked upon the
Zigzag, it seemed better to stay where we were and fall into the hands
of the Posse than set foot on that awful way, and fall upon the rocks
below. For the Zigzag started off as a fair enough chalk path, but in a
few paces narrowed down till it was but a whiter thread against the
grey-white cliff-face, and afterwards turned sharply back, crossing a
hundred feet direct above our heads. And then I smelt an evil stench,
and looking about, saw the blown-out carcass of a rotting sheep lie
close at hand.

'Faugh,' said Elzevir, 'tis a poor beast has lost his foothold.'

It was an ill omen enough, and