“And, if you hadn't got there as soon as you did, she'd have fallen?” asked the “Pet.” “I reckon,” returned Rand gloomily: “she was sorter dazed and crazed like.” “And you saved her life?” “I suppose so, if you put it that way,” said Rand sulkily. “But how did you get her up the mountain again?” “Oh! I got her up,” returned Rand moodily. “But how? Really, Mr. Rand, you don't know how interesting this is. It's as good as a play,” said the “Pet,” with a little excited laugh. “Oh, I carried her up!” “In your arms?” “Y-e-e-s.” Miss Euphemia paused, and bit off the stalk of a flower, made a wry face, and threw it away from her in disgust. Then she dug a few tiny holes in the earth with her parasol, and buried bits of the flower-stalk in them, as if they had been tender memories. “I suppose you knew Mornie very well?” she asked. “I used to run across her in the woods,” responded Rand shortly, “a year ago. I didn't know her so well then as--” He stopped. “As what? As NOW?” asked the “Pet” abruptly. Rand, who was coloring over his narrow escape from a topic which a delicate kindness of Sol had excluded from their intercourse on the mountain, stammered, “as YOU do, I meant.” The “Pet” tossed her head a little. “Oh! I don't know her at all--except through Sol.” Rand stared hard at this. The “Pet,” who was looking at him intently, said, “Show me the place where you saw Mornie clinging that night.” “It's dangerous,” suggested Rand. “You mean I'd be afraid! Try me! I don't believe she was SO dreadfully frightened!” “Why?” asked Rand, in astonishment. “Oh--because--” Rand sat down in vague wonderment. “Show it to me,” continued the “Pet,” “or--I'll find it ALONE!” Thus challenged, he rose, and, after a few moments' climbing, stood with her upon the trail. “You see that thorn-bush where the rock has fallen away. It was just there. It is not safe to go farther. No, really! Miss Euphemia! Please don't! It's almost certain death!” But the giddy girl had darted past him, and, face to the wall of the cliff, was creeping along the dangerous path. Rand followed mechanically. Once or twice the trail crumbled beneath her feet; but she clung to a projecting root of chaparral, and laughed. She had almost reached her elected goal, when, slipping, the treacherous chaparral she clung to yielded in her grasp, and Rand, with a cry, sprung forward. But the next instant she quickly transferred her hold to a cleft in the cliff, and was safe. Not so her companion. The soil beneath him, loosened by the impulse of his spring, slipped away: he was falling with it, when she caught him sharply with her disengaged hand, and together they scrambled to a more secure footing. “I could have reached it alone,” said the “Pet,” “if you'd left me alone.” “Thank Heaven, we're saved!” said Rand gravely. “AND WITHOUT A ROPE,” said Miss Euphemia significantly.