"Slower and slower, weaker and weaker, yet onward and upward, 'Aunt Twaddles' toiled on the face of the cliff, when suddenly one loud moan of horror swept from the parched throats of the multitude as 'Aunt Twaddles,' by accident, stepped on the end of her long skirt and reeling from the face of the rock, started to fall. Men turned from the horrible sight and sank to their knees, while over in the village women fell helpless into each others arms for support and turned from the sickening scene. "The crack of a rifle rang out on the air from the end of the foot-bridge and a puff of blue dust arose from the face of the cliff just over 'Aunt Twaddles'' head, where the bullet had shattered the rock. "Loud shouted the voice of Old Jonas, the fisherman, 'Stretch the net tight, men! Stretch the net tight! They are falling!' While strong limbs steadied themselves and firm hands drew tight on the meshes of stout twine. "But Fate favors the brave who have presence of mind. 'Aunt Twaddles' laid firm hold on the arm of a deep-rooted bush, and, as she drew her swaying form close to the mountain, the frightened children, swung far out in mid air, like the pendulum of a clock, and then heavily back against the cliff. Still they held firmly on to her dress. "Louder and louder the people now renewed their cries for 'Aunt Twaddles' to come down; but to attempt to descend in her weary condition meant certain death to all. "Onward and upward she continued; and while the people below were suffering the anguish of suspense, with one last weary reach she laid firm hold on an overhanging arm of a dogwood tree that hung from above and, with a deep sigh of relief, drew both herself and the children to safety on top of the cliff. "A murmur of joy went up from the dry, hoarse throats of the men at the base of the mountain, while women sank fainting far across in the streets of the village. Strong men broke down and wept under the spell of excitement. Old Nimrod, the hunter, ceased ramming the charge in his gun, and Jonas, the fisherman, shouldered his fish net; but he trembled so from excitement that he could not carry it home. The slow, solemn toll of the church bell turned into one long, loud ring of joy. "A wild shout from high up in the air echoed and re-echoed over the broad valley below. Far up on the side of the mountain, the people beheld 'Aunt Twaddles' wildly waving her sun-bonnet and lifting the children into plain view. In a moment she lowered them again in the shade of a tree and then sank for a rest at their side. "As the children sat gazing about on the beautiful scene below, they could plainly see the bent form of the old inn-keeper. He was rattling his peg-leg back over the bridge, and as he hobbled along he was shaking his head with an air of anxiety, thinking no doubt about the safety of the children, left to the mercy of a witch on the side of the mountain.