Our descent became a wild toboggan. Slipping
and sliding, clutching wildly at every little projection that would
decrease the speed at which we were travelling, we rolled with bruised
and bleeding bodies on to a small platform, and lay half stunned for a
moment, as a thousand pieces of rock, dislodged by our bodies, bounced
past us into the valley.

Holman picked himself up and looked around. The pink flush had deepened
in the east, and nearby objects were discernible.

"By all the gods! we are back on the ledge near the crevice!" he cried.
"Come along and we'll hunt for Kaipi."

It was wonderful how we had pulled up in our slide near the place where
we had witnessed the performance that prompted us to make the ascent.
But there was no mistake about the spot. As we crawled along the
platform we found that we had landed not more than twenty feet from the
crevice through which we had witnessed the blood-curdling "tivo," and we
hurried toward the spot where we had left the Fijian, whose nerves had
been upset by the glimpse he had had of the strange antics of the
dancers.

But Kaipi was not at the spot where we had left him. Whether his fears
had increased to such an extent that they had forced him to leave the
place, or whether he had come to the conclusion that we had returned to
the camp by some other route, we could not determine; so wasting no time
on useless conjecture we hurried toward the big maupei tree up which we
had climbed to reach the ledge.

But Holman's hurry proved disastrous. He had escaped the dangers of the
cliff descent to meet an accident when he had sufficient light to see
what he was about. In reaching for the limb of the tree that threshed
against the cliff, he lost his footing, and before I could grip him he
went crashing through the foliage to the ground, some fifty feet below!

I thought that I was an hour descending that tree, but I could not have
been more than three minutes if my skinned legs could be relied upon as
evidence of speed. I found Holman in a thorny tangle, and as I dragged
him into the open he groaned loudly and endeavoured to get upon his
feet.

"Are you hurt?" I questioned.

"No, no!" he cried. "I'm not hurt, Verslun. Get me on my feet, man.
Quick! For the love of God, quick!"

I gripped his shoulders and he managed to stand upright. The dawn came
with tropic suddenness at that moment, and I saw that he was bleeding
from a nasty wound above the right temple, while he