They had not pushed through the miniature defile when symptomatic showers of snow drifted in upon them in blinding columns. The avalanche was coming. The terror stricken Alpine climber, who, behind some serac on the lofty glacier, has his ears assaulted with the roar of the descending avalanche, in no literal sense has greater reason for fear than did those men in the streets of Edinburgh at that moment. Leacraft shouted, “On! On! On! One second and we are lost!” This despairing cry was not ill calculated to spur their efforts. The very agony of fright it summoned in the two men behind him gave them the strength of desperation. For one instant the spent muscles became steel. They floundered forward, and fell together almost in one heap beyond the portal of the two mounds as the swirling snow in torrents obliterated their outlines in new envelopes. Their fall toppled Leacraft over on his side. The confused objects, looking like some assortment of discarded bundles lay quiet, the darting cold had brought with it the treacherous drowsiness into their eyes, and had already begun to lock the keyholes of their senses. It was Jim who had roused himself to action. He struck Leacraft across the face with his gloved hand, and did the same to Thomsen, whom he again lifted to his feet. The smart of the stinging blow startled Leacraft on his legs; his nose bled, and he could feel the woman still stiffly clinging to him. It was Jim who now uttered the warning, “Get out o’ this. I hae the lugger all right. Get down to the bank.” Leacraft looked quickly. The bank steps were beneath them, and the vagaries of the storm alternately covered and cleared them of snow. Half rolling, he pitched down the slope, following Jim, who had his arm around Thomsen’s waist, and who, supporting himself on Jim’s shoulder, was manfully helping his rescuer. In a few minutes, with staggering steps and frequent falls, the four gained the protection of the bank. This refuge acted favorably. Their spirits revived, and the whisky flasks assisted. Their attitude toward the storm became a little defiant. “We can do it now. It’s only a step around to Princes street. Ethel, how do you feel?” It was the young Scotchman who spoke, and the young woman even smiled as she answered “O! Ned, we shall be saved! How can we thank this gentleman?” “Excuse me” blurted out Leacraft, “we won’t waste time just now in an exchange of civilities. The opportunity for that formality will come when we are all out of this.”