lf of destruction
launched itself upon her mind. It was folly--a thing impossible.
There was nothing to do but go on. Shutting her eyes and holding her
breath she felt the mare beneath her tremulously moving forward,
smelling out the places of security whereon to rest her weight.

Elsa, sublimely unresponsive, alike to the grandeur or the danger of
the place, rode as placidly here as in the valley.

They passed the first of the shelf-like brinks, traversed a safer
contour of the wall, and were presently isolated upon the second bridge
of granite, which was also the last, much longer than the first, but
perhaps not so narrow or winding.

Van had perspired in nervous tension, as the two women rode above the
chasm. Men had gone down here to oblivion. He was easier now, more
careless of himself and horse, less alert for a looseness in the
granite mass, as he turned in his saddle to look backward.

Suddenly, with a horrible sensation in his vitals, he felt his pony
crumpling beneath him, even as he heard Beth sound a cry.

A second later he was going, helplessly, with the air-rush in his ears
and the pony's quiver shivering up his spine. All bottomless space
seemed to open where they dropped. He kicked loose the stirrups, even
as the pony struck upon the first narrow terrace, ten feet down, and
felt the helpless animal turned hoofs and belly upward by the blow.

He had thrust himself free--apart from the horse--but could not cling
to the rotten ledge for more than half a second. Then down once more
he was falling, as before, only a heart-beat later than the pinto.

Out of the lip of the next shelf below the pony's weight tore a jagged
fragment. The animal's neck was broken, and he and the stone-mass
plunged on downward together.

Van half way fell through a stubborn bush--that clung with the
mysterious persistency of life to a handful of soil in a crevice--and
his strong hands closed upon its branches.

He was halted with a jolt. The pony hurtled loosely, grotesquely down
the abyss, bounding from impacts with the terraces, and was presently
lost to mortal sight in the dust and debris he carried below for a
shroud. Sounds of his striking--dull, leaden sounds, tremendous in the
all-pervading silence--came clearly up to the top. Then Van found his
feet could be rested on the shelf, and he let himself relax to ease his
arms.

CHAPTER III

A RESCUE

Beth had uttered that one cry only, as man and ho