She was sure-footed as a deer, her slim, supple body balancing itself almost instinctively, but even so the traversing of that narrow, rocky ledge, in parts not more than a foot wide, was a severe test of her endurance. A single false step meant death, instantaneous and inevitable, and the whole terrible ten minutes which it took her to complete the short distance was poignant with the dread of what she might discover at its end. Moving very cautiously, her bare hands sliding across the rough face of the rock as she edged her way forward, she came at last to where the ledge widened out and the ground above sloped gently upwards. A few steps more and she could see Tony's young, supine figure. The last three yards were accomplished at a run, and an instant later she was kneeling beside him, thrusting swift, urgent hands beneath his shirt to feel whether his heart still beat. The throb of it came softly against her palms--warm, and pulsatingly _alive_! Ann rocked a little on her knees. She felt sick and giddy with reaction from the almost intolerable strain of the last few minutes. Then she caught sight of a vivid glint of blue--a single gentian bloom still tightly clasped in the boy's hand, and quite suddenly she began to cry, the tears running unchecked down her face. And it was just then that Tony came back to consciousness--to the vague consciousness of something wet splashing down on to his face. He stirred and opened his eyes. "Tony!" Ann's voice was hoarse with relief. His eyes blinked at her uncertainly. "Hello!" he said rather feebly. "What's happened?" "I thought you were killed!" she cried unsteadily. "Oh, Tony, I thought you were killed!" He regarded her consideringly. "No," he replied seriously. "I'm not at all killed. Why should I be killed?" Then, clearer consciousness returning: "Am I talking rot? What's happened?" Ann slipped her arm beneath his shoulders and raised him a little so that his head rested on her lap. "You fell," she said, trying to speak calmly. "You were climbing up and you fell. Where are you hurt, Tony?" "Oh, I remember.... Yes, I fell--just as I was getting to the top. A rotten old stump gave way under my foot." "But where are you hurt?" persisted Ann anxiously. "I don't think I _am_ hurt." He stretched his limbs tentatively. "No, there's nothing broken. I feel a bit buzzy in the head, that's all." He tried to lift himself up, but Ann pressed him back against her knees. "Don't move! Don't move!" she cried hastily. "Lie still for a few minutes. Are you sure--_sure_ you're not hurt?" "Bet you a tenner I'm not," he replied, with the ghost of a grin. "My head's clearing, too. I was only knocked out of time for a minute. Don't worry." He put up his hand and touched her cheek. "Why, you're quite pale, Ann." "I _felt_ pale--when I saw you fall," she answered grimly. Her spirits were returning now that she was assured he was uninjured. "I was certain you must be killed."