And Pearl, finally realizing that she could hope nothing from him, turned and ran back to the ravine.  There she threw herself flat on the ground and, groaning and sobbing, drew herself to the edge of the cliff and gazed down into those depths of purple shadow.  Much of the snow still lingered, and for a moment in the white, dazzling glare of the sunlight on the steep walls, she could see nothing.  Then, as her eye became accustomed to those flashing refractions of light, she gave a loud, sobbing cry, her whole body became strangely limp and inert.  For one dreadful moment she feared that she was going to faint.  Then she drew on all the strength of her will and was herself again, ready in that moment of poignant relief to dare anything, do anything to save him.

For quite plainly she saw Harry.  Instead of whirling down into those impenetrable depths and being buried in the mass of snow at the bottom, he had been caught almost miraculously on the out-curving trunks of two or three young pine trees growing close together and springing from a narrow out-cropping ledge of rock.  It was not so very far down, at most not more than thirty feet.  “Harry,” she cried, “Harry,” sending her voice ringing down the chasm; but he did not even stir at the sound, only the narrow walls gave back the echoes.  The silence struck the chill of a new terror to her heart, and she sprang to her feet, gazing wildly about her in every direction.

“I must have help.  I must have help,” she muttered.  But, oh, it would take so long to get men from the camp, and all the time she would be gone he would be lying there silent and motionless, perhaps—­no, she shuddered, she would not even think the word.

Once more she sent her seeking, despairing gaze over the hillside, and then uttered a sharp, muffled exclamation, for, rising above the jagged walls of the ravine, and not many feet away, climbing, agilely and rapidly, she saw a man.  A moment more and she bent forward in a state half of relief and half of superstitious terror, muttering a prayer, almost believing that it was a vision; and then, with a relief beyond all speech, she saw that it was Jose.  She could not be mistaken.

He had pulled himself over the cliff by this time and had cautiously risen to his feet.  Up and down the hill and in every direction he sent his sweeping, careful gaze, his far-sighted eyes taking in every detail of the landscape.  Then he came toward Pearl, over the bare, brown earth, running low.

“Oh, Jose, Jose,” she cried, almost hysterical in her relief, “Harry is down there,” pointing to the cliff, “hurt, and you must help me get him up, you must.”

“Carramba!  So that was the noise and screaming I heard in my rock cell yonder, just as I was about to creep out and take a little air.  I would not have dared to come so far if I had not seen you here alone.”  He threw himself on the ground and looked over the cliff.  “Saints and devils!  It is true.  Poor Harry!  But you and I cannot get him up alone.”