Seemingly there was nothing to prevent him diving over the edge when he should come a little farther. Chick had just time to see the fugitive on his headlong way, and to note that two dark-skinned men who resembled the rascals they had met when the medicine man had been killed by the snake in the forest were following. Then something else seemed to leap into his vision from nothingness, although common sense told him it had been there all the time. The something was a cleft in the rock at the edge of the precipice. It was only a few feet from that which held him by his one wrist. “If I can reach that crack,” he murmured, “I might be able to drag myself up, and----” Chick did not finish the sentence even to himself. Taking a firm grip of himself, so that he should not allow mere pain to swerve him from the purpose he had formed, he swung, with all his power, in the direction of the crevice he had just noticed. As he did so, it seemed as if the wrist held in the other fissure might be torn apart. But he persisted, and, as the tips of his fingers caught the rough rock, he pulled himself up. It was indescribable agony, because he was obliged to pull to some degree on his maimed wrist. Nevertheless, he did not flinch. With a tremendous tug, he raised himself so that half his body lay on the rock. “If I can pull up the rest of the way, I’ll make it yet,” he thought. “That chap above will be over if I don’t stop him.” The young man--hatless, and with his white garments rent in all directions--still showed in his face and general aspect not only that he was a gentleman, but that he was not of a nature to be easily subdued. “By George!” was Chick’s exclamation, as, with a last painful effort, he got to the narrow path and lay panting for breath. “It looks like----” He got to his knees and braced himself for a shock that would mean life or death to two people. The white stranger had lost control of himself entirely now. There had been curves in his downward path on the face of the rock that he had taken advantage of to check himself twice. The second time he had almost stopped. Now he was on the last bit of path, and there was nothing to hold him back. Twenty steps more and he would be on the narrow ledge where Chick crouched, waiting! It was out of the question that the flying man could stop there. He must keep on! Then--the leap to death! “What can I do?” thought Chick. It was not in a despairing tone that Chick asked himself this question. He put it to himself seriously, and with the object of finding an answer. Of course, he had not the time to go into it in detail. This was only his general idea. Fortunately, Chick was in the habit, in an emergency, of taking action instinctively, and generally such action turned out to be wise and effective.