The mountain of Sof is shaped like a tooth. The ascent was very difficult, over a rough trail, scaling walls of rock, and often passing close to the edge of a precipice, but on reaching the summit the climbers were rewarded for their exertions by a magnificent view. At their feet lay a vast plain enclosed by the hills which separate Aintab from Killis; toward the north towered the great wall of Anti-Taurus. Most of the boys lay down on the grass, to dry the perspiration that streamed from their faces. A few of the more adventurous went off to investigate the huge blocks of granite jutting out over the depths below. "Be very careful," called Mihran hodja, as he stretched himself out beside Monsieur Bernier. "Does our Sof remind you of your Swiss mountains?" "Not exactly; our Alps are higher and more majestic, but we seldom enjoy such pure air and sunshine----" He was interrupted by a terrible cry, followed by the sound of something falling. "There has been an accident!" said he to his companion, and they both ran toward the rocks. There they found Dikran, Aram, and three other boys, all pale and trembling. "What is the matter?" asked Mihran hodja. In reply, Dikran beckoned to them to come nearer, and pointed straight down. There was his cousin, suspended over the chasm, and clinging to a small tree. The boys gave a cry of horror. Poor Nejib had slipped as he was gathering anemones, and had fallen between two walls of rock. His fall had been broken by a narrow ledge covered with thick grass; a few meters lower, he had caught hold of a young pine, but the frail tree might give way at any moment, and then the unfortunate boy must roll down to the turbulent stream below. With neither rope nor ladder, it seemed impossible to save him; yet he could not be left to perish like that. There was perplexity on every face. At last Archag went up to Monsieur Bernier and said: "He must have been hurt as he fell; I hear him groaning. I am going to try to get down to him." "You will certainly be killed in the attempt." "I'm used to mountains, and I can scramble over the rocks like a wild goat. Let us make a rope of our girdles; [24] you fasten it about me and let me down." It was the only chance of saving Nejib, and after a moment's consultation the two masters consented. They bound the improvised rope about Archag's loins, and let him down. Our friend made good use of his hands and feet, and finally reached Nejib. He braced himself against a rock, gripping it with his right hand, while with the left he untied the rope and fastened it about Nejib. The lad had sprained his ankle, and his arm was badly bruised. Archag gave a whistle, and the rope began to go slowly up with its burden. The spectators held their breath in suspense: if a single girdle were to break, Nejib would be lost.