lide, above
the Cauldron. They were come, indeed, to the very edge of the Slide
itself before Plutina acted. After all, it was not the new courage,
but a newer fear, that forced her. She had one swift glimpse of the
valley spread a thousand feet below, the giant trees like tiniest
saplings, so far away--that dear, adorable valley, where were home and
peace and love. But, between her and it, the precipice fell; between
her and it, the Devil's Pot boiled; between her and it was this man,
who drove her with curses. She looked away from the beloved valley
into the loathsome face, and she saw the fear in his eyes--fear, and
something else that terrified her. She realized suddenly that she was
on the very verge of the Slide, where none might venture and live.
There, just beyond, was the darkened surface of the rock where the
shallow stream went slithering down into the Cauldron. An hysteria of
fear gripped her, as he dragged her forward, out upon the sloping
stone that dipped toward the abyss. She believed that he meant to hurl
her from the height. Thus, there would be left no evidence of his
crime. His passion for her was nothing now--only his passion for
life.

"Quick, damn ye!" Hodges rasped. "I know the way in the dark. Ye
needn't be skeered none with me."

He meant it; but the girl did not believe. She thought it a ruse to
get her closer to the edge. She shrieked in despair, and sprang away
from him. His clutch on the thong checked her. He jerked her back to
him, hardly pausing in his stride. She struck at his face furiously,
but he dragged her on toward the brink, mouthing at her with foul
oaths. She fell to her knees, and hung, screaming, a dead weight. The
baying of the hound sounded closer. Hodges threw a glance over his
shoulder, and saw the dog charging from the grove. He would have
fired, but the girl was in the way. With a final blasphemy, he dropped
his rifle, and struck at her--full in the face. She sank down limply,
unconscious. Her body slid away slowly, yet with a quickening
movement, toward the gulf.

Hodges gave not even a look to his victim. He heard the challenge of
the hound, now fairly upon him. There was no time to shoot. He used
cunning instead. A mighty jump carried him over the moist surface
where the stream flowed. He alighted on the dry rock. His bare feet
clutched and held on the sloping surface.... No instinct warned the
hound. Its leap brought it down in the wet run-way. Its feet shot from