Joel and Hulda, though they had not yet caught sight of him, heard his cry.

“What is that?” exclaimed Joel, springing to his feet.

“A cry!” replied Hulda.

“Yes, a cry of distress.”

“From what direction did it come?”

“Let us listen.”

Both looked first to the right, and then to the left of the fall, but they saw nothing, though they had certainly heard the words “Help! help!” uttered during one of the intervals between each rebound of the Rjukan.

The cry was repeated.

“Joel, some one who is in danger is calling for help,” cried Hulda.  “We must go to his aid.”

“Yes, sister; and he can not be far off.  But in what direction?  Where is he?  I see no one.”

Hulda hastily climbed a little knoll behind the mossy rock upon which she had been sitting.

“Joel!” she cried, suddenly.

“Do you see him?”

“There, there!”

As she spoke she pointed to the imprudent man whose body seemed to be almost overhanging the abyss.  If his foothold upon a tiny ledge of rock failed him, or he was seized with dizziness, he was lost.

“We must save him!” said Hulda.

“Yes,” replied Joel, “if we can keep our wits about us we shall perhaps be able to reach him.”

Joel gave a loud shout to attract the attention of the traveler, who immediately turned his head toward the spot from which the sound proceeded; then the worthy fellow devoted a few moments to deciding how he could best rescue the stranger from his dangerous position.

“You are not afraid, are you, Hulda?” he asked.

“No, brother.”

“You know the Maristien well, do you not?”

“I have crossed it several times.”

“Then walk along the brow of the cliff, gradually getting as near the traveler as you possibly can; then allow yourself to slide down gently toward him, and take him by the hand, so as to prevent him from falling any further; but do not let him try to lift himself up, because if he should be seized with vertigo he would certainly drag you down with him, and you would both be lost.”

“And you, Joel?”

“While you are traversing the brow of the cliff I will creep along the edge of it on the river-side.  I shall reach him about as soon as you do, and if you should slip I shall perhaps be able to prevent you both from falling.”

Then, taking advantage of another interval in the roaring of the torrent, Joel shouted in stentorian tones: 

“Don’t move, sir.  Wait; we will try to get to you!”

Hulda had already disappeared behind the trees that crowned the ledge, in order to ascend the Maristien from the other side of the declivity, and Joel soon caught a glimpse of the fast-receding form of the brave girl at the turn in the path where the last trees grew.

He, in turn, at the peril of his life, had begun to creep slowly along the shelving edge of the ledge that surrounds the Rjukan.  What wonderful coolness, what steadiness of foot and of hand were required to thus advance in safety along the edge of an abyss whose borders were drenched with the spray of the cataract!