“Why did she do it?” moaned the Mexican, releasing his hold on Frank to wring his hands. “She seemed distracted. She seemed crazy. I saw her flit along, but didn’t dream she meant to leap from the precipice.” With sudden fear, Merry gave the panting man a shake. “What are you talking about, you crazy imbecile?” he demanded. “It was Inza Burrage you saw!” “Merciful saints!” moaned the Mexican, seeming ready to collapse with horror. “The beautiful Señorita Inza? And I saw her plunge over the precipice to her death! A moment before I was looking from the brink myself into the black treetops down below. The shadows are deep and dark down there.” “Take me to the spot!” cried Frank. “Hasten, then!” palpitated the Mexican. “I will show you where it happened. Oh, the beautiful señorita! She has gone to her death! Not even a cry did she utter! What a frightful thing, Señor Merriwell!” Frank followed the Mexican, who quickly led him to the verge of a high cliff, over which he declared the girl had rushed without pause and without sound of any sort. Frank bent forward and peered over. Beneath him the bluff dropped almost straight down. Far below in the shadows he could see the tops of many trees growing thickly. A sudden feeling of doubt and uncertainty swept over him. It seemed utterly preposterous that Inza in gay spirits should rush blindly over that precipice. Had she done such a thing by accident or miscalculation, surely she would have uttered a cry as she fell. Like a flash he whirled on Del Norte, and he was barely in time to save his own life, for he discovered the Mexican in the act of thrusting him over the brink of the precipice. Quick as thought, Merry clutched Del Norte’s wrists and clung to them. “You dog!” he said, in a low tone, as they both tottered on the very edge of the cliff. “If I go, you go with me.” “Fiends take you!” hissed the vindictive and treacherous Mexican. “Why did you turn? One second more and you would have found yourself falling to your death!” Even as he panted these words, the wretch tried to squirm clear of Merry’s clutch and send him over the brink. He was like an eel in his writhings, yet Frank managed to hold fast to him. “If I go, you go, too!” palpitated the young American. “You shall not escape!” hissed the other, his dark eyes glaring in the moonlight. “Then say your prayers, Porfias del Norte, for your end comes with mine!” Frank felt that it was useless to shout for help. Long before any one on the veranda could answer the cry and reach the spot, the encounter would be over and one or the other would be victorious. The moon was well up by this time, and its bright light fell full upon the two men battling for their very lives at the brink of that frightful precipice. All around them the world appeared calm, and still, and at peace. They alone of all human creatures, it seemed, were aroused by beastlike passions, seeking to destroy each other.