He really did jerk on the rope, but more for the purpose of tightening the loop than for any other reason.  Of course, the proceeding was followed by an ear-piercing scream.  Janus promptly began to pull up on the line.  Tommy’s foot came up with it, leaving the other foot and one arm dangling in the air nearly two hundred feet from the bottom of the cliff.

“Pull when we get her level.  No; the rest of you folks keep back, or we’ll all be over, first thing we know.  There!  Over she comes!” With a final effort they had landed Tommy on the shelf.  She was sobbing pitifully.  Her ordeal had been sufficient to upset the strongest nerved person.

“You poor darling,” cried Miss Elting, gathering the terror-stricken Tommy in her arms and staggering to the rear of the shelf, where she placed the terrified girl on a blanket.

Harriet sat back where she was.  She was breathing heavily from her exertions, and further than this she admitted to herself that she was a little faint.  But not for worlds would she have her companions know this.

“Better get back,” advised the guide.  “One is enough.”

“Don’t trouble about me.  I will as soon as I get my breath.  That was a hard position in which to do any lifting.”

“I reckon.  I take off my hat to you, Miss Burrell.  This outfit isn’t in such great need of a pilot.  You could get along without me and never miss me for a minute except when it comes to toting a pack, and even then I guess you could do without me, especially if that young lady threw a dish or so overboard after every meal,” he added jocularly.

“Is there any wood?”

“Yes.  There you are again.  I never think of anything.  I get lost wondering what’s going to happen next.  You sit down.  I’ll attend to the fire.  It is cold.  You are shivering, aren’t you”?

“I—­I believe I am.”  Harriet got up and walked over to her companions.  She walked rather unsteadily, but they were too much upset themselves to observe it.  Tommy lay on a blanket with face buried in her arms, sobbing, every fourth sob being a hysterical moan.  Harriet sat down beside the unhappy little girl, slipping an arm about her waist.

“It’s all over now, honey.  Don’t cry.”

“I’m thick!  Pleathe give me thome—­thome water.”

“Water,” called Harriet.  “Is there any?  If not, let Mr. Janus get it, if he will.”

“If she can wait a few moments we’ll all have some hot coffee,” answered the guide.  But Tommy could not wait.  She insisted on having a drink of water, so the guide brought it to her.  This seemed to take the girl’s mind from her recent fright, and lying on her back Tommy Thompson gradually became quiet and surveyed the guide’s coffee-making through half-closed eyes.

“Do you think you can go to sleep?” asked Miss Elting, stooping over the recumbent Tommy.

“Not until I get thome coffee,” answered Tommy, gazing up soulfully into the anxious face of the guardian.