little by little she
began to make out the broken surface of the cliffs. The chasm below
was a pool of ink; above were the little stars; in the eastern sky, low
down, was a promise of the rising moon.

The surge of quickening hope came into her heart. Had she hurt
Quinnion more than she had guessed? For, slowly as she made her
hazardous way down, it seemed to her that Quinnion came even more
slowly. Could she but once get down into the gorge below, could she
slip along the course of the racing stream, she might run and the sound
of her steps would be lost even to her own ears in the sound of the
water; the sight of her flying body would be lost to Quinnion's eyes.

Then she heard him laughing above her. Laughing, with a snarl and a
curse in his laugh, and something of malicious triumph. Was he so
certain of her then?

"Ruth!" called Quinnion. "Oh, Ruth! The girl's gettin' away. Goin'
down the rocks. Head her off at the bottom."

Judith had found, because her fate was good to her, the long slanting
crack in the wall of rock up which she had come that day with Bayne
Trevors. There was still danger of a fall, but the danger was less now
than it had been ten seconds ago. She could move more swiftly now and
confidence had begun to com to her that she could elude Quinnion. But
now, suddenly, she heard Mad Ruth's voice screaming a shrill answer to
Quinnion's shout; knew that Ruth had been in her cabin across the gorge
and was running to intercept her at the foot of the cliffs.

Well, still there was a race to be run and the odds not entirely
uneven. Ruth must descend the other side of the canon, get down into
the gorge, make the crossing, which, so far as Judith knew, might be
farther up or farther down stream, come to the cliffs below Judith
before Judith herself made her way down.

Again Judith took what risks the night and the rocks offered her and
thanked God in her soul that it was given her to take a chance in the
open, to use her own muscles in her own fight, not to lie longer,
playing the part of a do-nothing. Now and then, across the void, there
floated to her a little moaning cry from the mad woman's lips. Now and
then she heard a curse from Quinnion above; often from above her, from
below her own feet, from across the chasm, dropping stones, falling
almost sheer, told of haste and death which might come from an unlucky
step.

Fast as Judith went now, having a fair sort of cliff trail under he