He fumbled at the draw-strings of the pouch, loosened them. He thrust a finger within the opening, and touched something smooth and hard. It seemed to him that he already knew what this thing must be. He turned the bag upside down over his hand. In his palm lay a small coffee-colored piece of stone. It bore in darker shade the clear tracery of a cross. Zeke, looking down, saw the sacred symbol subtly effulgent, a holy promise of safety for her whom he loved. He lifted a radiant face to the others, who had crowded about with marveling exclamations. "Hit's the fairy cross I give Tiny," Zeke cried. His voice was joyous now, though throbbing with anxiety. "She hain't dead. She's kotched somehow thar on the rocks. She kain't climb up. So, she sent the cross by Chubbie, to show she was alive. I'll go down fer her." The listening group readily understood the wonder that had befallen. Whatever her present peril, whatever her injuries, Plutina still lived. The blessed fact stirred them to joy and to orderly action. "Ye kain't he'p Tiny none by fallin' into the Kittle yerself," Uncle Dick declared, with the voice of authority. "Jest hold yer hosses, an' we'll he'p ye git 'er up safe an' sound. They's grape-vines 'nough in the grove. I suspicion she hain't so fer down. Mebby we could hear 'er if the wind wa'n't blowin' to the no'th." They dared not take time for descent into the valley after rope. Moreover, Uncle Dick was confident that his knots would hold securely the weight of a single person. With all speed, strands of vine were brought and spliced most carefully. In a surprisingly brief time, there were some seventy-five feet in readiness. More would be added, if this length should not suffice. When the rope was completed, an end was securely fastened about Zeke's body with knots that would neither tighten nor slip.