“Have you got a safe hold for your foot?” Festing gasped.

“I think I have.  Let go.”

“Make sure first,” he answered with a sobbing breath.

She looked up into his set face, and although the strain was heavy he thrilled as he saw her smile.  The smile indicated courage and trust.

“I’m quite safe,” she said, and he let her go.

She leaned cautiously over the next edge, but after a moment or two turned and waved her hand.

“This is the way I thought.  Send Alison down.”

Miss Jardine descended with some help from both, and Festing dropped safely on the gravel.  He leaned against the rock to get his breath, and Helen turned to him with a twinkle.

“You doubted my nerve once.  I suppose that was why you didn’t let go.”

“I’m sometimes dull,” said Festing.  “Just now, however, I wanted to make certain I could help you back.”

Helen laughed.  “Well, I dare say you could have lifted me, but it would have been simpler to lower me your coat.”

They went down the gully, where jambed stones made rude steps, and reaching the bottom found a belt of grass that led them to the head of a dale.  The mist was thinner, and presently a few scattered houses appeared across the fields.  The path they followed forked, and Helen stopped at the turning.

“The hotel is yonder to the right,” she said.  “We are going to the hall, where they sometimes take people in.”

Festing remembered that Muriel had indicated the hall, which he understood was a well-built farm, as his stopping place.  He wanted to go there, but thought there was some risk of its looking as if he meant to force his society on the girls.  He took the path Helen indicated, and when he had gone some distance, stopped, hesitated, and then went on.

The girls noted this and Miss Jardine said:  “I suppose he remembered that he has my sack, or else his heart failed him.”

Helen looked at her in surprise.  “Did you forget?”

“I did not,” Miss Jardine admitted.  “I thought I wouldn’t spoil the plot.  It looked as if he wanted an excuse for meeting us again, but I think I wronged him.  That sudden stop was genuine.”

“The sack is yours,” said Helen dryly.  “But you will need the things inside.”

“I imagine I will get them before long, although it doesn’t seem to have struck him that my clothes are damp.  It’s rather significant that he went on when he could have run across the field and caught us up.  Have you known him long?”

“I met him once,” said Helen with an impatient frown.

“Rather a good type,” Miss Jardine remarked.  “I think I should like Canadians, if they’re all like that.”

“He isn’t a Canadian.”

“Then he hasn’t been in England for some time, and so far as my knowledge goes, men like variety.  Of course, to some extent, he saw us under a disadvantage.  Mountaineering clothes are comfortable, but one can’t say much more.”