"Yes. Martha told me she struck off over the mountain in this direction." He looked sharply about him, but the path curved suddenly before toward the mine, and backward in the direction of the river, forming out there a natural terrace in the huge rampart of limestone. "Perhaps you have missed her," said the Doctor. "She may have returned home another way, without she has gone on toward the mine." A spasm shot through Clive, who stood up firmly now, nerved by the bitter thoughts which suggested to his jealous mind Dinah seeking his brother once more. "She would not go there," cried the Major angrily. "Ah, what's that?" For at that moment the cry they had before heard came faintly to their ears. The Major stepped quickly to the edge of the path, protected only by a rough parapet of loose stones, looked over, and then, leaping back, threw off his coat, leaped over the rough protection, and began to lower himself down the steep precipice. For a moment or two Clive could not stir; then, weak, trembling, and with his mouth hot and dry, he walked to the edge, and looked down to see, quite two hundred feet below, a portion of a woman's dress, and directly after, as she clung there desperately, Dinah Gurdons white upturned face; and he knew now whence came the wailing sound. "Clive! what are you going to do?" "Get down to help," he said hoarsely. "Madness! You have no strength. You could not hold on for a minute." Clive groaned, for even as he stood there a sensation of faintness came over him, to teach him that he was helpless as an infant. "Good heavens! what a place!" cried the Doctor. "I cannot--I dare not go down. It would be madness at my age." Then he stood speechless as his companion; and they craned over, and watched the Major, active still as a young man from his mountain life, descending quickly from block to block, making use of the rough growth of heather for hand hold, and now quite fifty feet below where they knelt, while the look of agony in Dinah's eyes as she clung there, apparently unnerved and helpless, was as plain through the clear air as if she were close at hand. "Your work, Clive," cried the Doctor furiously, but in a low whisper. "The poor girl in her misery and despair has thrown herself over, and lodged where she is. Thank God, I am down here. I can be of use when we get her home. If we get her home alive," he added to himself. Clive made no reply, but knelt down panting and enraged against the weakness which kept him there supine, when, in spite of all, he would have given a dozen years of his life to have been able to descend and bear the poor girl up to a place of safety.