He shouted, and there was no answer. He tried to haul at the rope which bound him to Pressford; but the effort only endangered his hold. He dared not stir. For the time he could bear the strain of his friend's weight. But—how long would he be able? He could not see the fallen man. He could only see the rope—twitching as it descended over the jammed boulder. He could only know by conjecture what had been the cause. Would nothing break this death-like stillness? He remembered Doris, whose presence had been momentarily driven from his mind by Pressford's fall. Why had she not called out? Then it occurred to him that she might have screamed, unheard, at the worst moment of the shock,—that even since then she might have called, without gaining his attention. As he wondered, her voice, clear and steady, came up to him. "Mr. Maurice—something is wrong. Mr. Pressford has fallen. Can I help?" "Can you see him?" Maurice's deeper tones asked. "Yes." In the pure mountain air their voices travelled easily. "Any support below?" "I'm afraid not. It's all smooth rock." She scanned the part intently. "I can't be sure. There's a ledge a little to one side—not quite below him. May I come up? If I may, I can pull him on the ledge." The offer took Maurice by surprise. He was amazed at her coolness, her presence of mind. "No! No!" he called. He could not think of letting her run the risk, unroped. "Stay where you are." His tone was urgent. "But indeed I must. Please let me." Her courage rose, as she recognised the need for action. "Let me come. Say yes. I'm sure I can do it." "No, no. Wait. Pressford may revive." Moments lagged slowly by, and still the heavy helpless body hung against the rock-wall, kept there by the taut rope. For Maurice to stir was out of the question. As now placed, he might support the weight for an hour, perhaps even for many hours. But to slacken his hold of the rope for one instant would mean certain death for the unconscious Pressford and for himself; probably also for Doris, should she be left alone on a steep mountain-side, under such terrible conditions. If the weight dragging at him could be but for a few seconds removed, he might make the rope secure, and then descend to Pressford's help. But that was impossible. Only a girl below; a mere inexperienced beginner in the art of climbing. She could do nothing. He had to stay where he was,—till Pressford should revive, or till some problematic rescue-party should appear on the scene. "Do let me," she entreated. "I'm almost sure I could get him on the ledge. We can't leave him like this. I'll be very, very careful."