ow . . . she did not definitely formulate the thought of which
she was at the time but dimly, vaguely conscious . . . she was glad
that she had come to San Juan. And she was not afraid of the silent
man at her side, nor sorry that circumstance had given them this night
and its labors.

Norton knocked out his pipe. Together they got to their feet.

"More careful than ever now," he cautioned her. "Look out for each
step and go slowly. We're there in ten minutes. Ready?"

"Ready," she answered.

CHAPTER VII

IN THE HOME OF CLIFF-DWELLERS

Those remaining ten minutes tried all that there was of endurance in
Virginia Page. Often Norton, bidding her wait a moment, climbed on to
some narrow ledge above her and, drawing the rope steadily through his
hands, gave her what aid he could; often, clinging with hand and foot
she thought breathlessly of the steep fall of cliff which the darkness
hid from her eyes, but which grew ever steeper in her mind as she
struggled on. He had said it would be easier in daylight; she wondered
if after all it would not have been more difficult could she have seen
just what were the chances she was taking at every moment. But more
and more she came to have utter faith in the quiet man going on before
her, and in the piece of rope which stretched taut between them.

"And now," said Norton at last, when once more he had drawn her up to
him and they stood close together upon a narrow ledge, "we've got a
good, safe trail under foot. Good news, eh?"

But as he moved on now he kept her hand locked tight in his own. Their
"good, safe trail" was a rough ledge running almost horizontally along
the cliffside, its trend scarcely perceptibly upward. Within twenty
steps it led them into a wide, V-shaped fissure in the rocks. Then
came a sort of cup in a nest of rugged peaks, its bottom filled with
imprisoned soil worn from the spires above. As Norton, relinquishing
her hand, went forward swiftly she heard a man's voice saying weakly:

"That you, Rod?"

"I came as soon as I could, Brocky." Norton, standing close to a big
outjutting boulder upon the far side of the cup, was bending over the
cattleman. "How are you making out, old man?"

"I've sure been having one hell of a nice little party," grunted Brocky
Lane faintly. "A man's so damn close to heaven on these mountain
tops. . . . Who's that?"

Virginia came forward quickly and went down on her knees at Lane's side.

"I'm Dr