It was one thing to say that he would come, and another to do it. The sand gave scarcely any foothold; how was he to get enough purchase to pull Eva round the bulge? He looked at Dorothy in despair. Her quick mind had taken in the situation at a glance. “You must get down there above her, Ernest, and lie flat, and stretch out your hand to her.” “But there is nothing to hold to. When she puts her weight on to my hand we shall both go together.” “No, I will hold your legs. Be quick, she is getting exhausted.” It took Ernest but two seconds to reach the spot that Dorothy had pointed to, and to lay himself flat, or rather slanting, for his heels were a great deal higher than his head. Fortunately, he discovered a hard knob of sandstone, against which he could rest his left hand. Meanwhile, Dorothy, seating herself as securely as she could above, seized him by the ankles. Then Ernest stretched his hand downwards, and, gripping Eva by the wrist, began to put out his strength. Had the three found any time to indulge their sense of humour, they might have found the appearance they presented intensely ludicrous; but they did not, for the very good reason that for thirty seconds or so their lives were not worth a farthing’s purchase. Ernest strained and strained, but Eva was a large woman, although she danced so lightly, and the bulge over which he had to pull her was almost perpendicular. Presently he felt that Dorothy was beginning to slip above him. “She must make an effort, or we shall all go,” she said in a quiet voice. “Drive your knees into the sand and throw yourself forward, it is your only chance!” gasped Ernest to the exhausted woman beneath him. She realised the meaning of his words, and gave a desperate struggle. “Pull, Doll; for God’s sake, pull! she’s coming.” Then followed a second of despairing effort, and she was beside him on the spot where he lay; another struggle, and the three sank exhausted on the top of the cliff, rescued from a most imminent death. “By Jove!” ejaculated Ernest, “that was a near thing!” Dorothy nodded; she was too exhausted to speak. Eva smiled and fainted. He turned to her with a little cry and began to chafe her cold hands. “O, she’s dead, Doll!” he said. “No, she has fainted, give me your hat.” Before he could do so she had seized it, and was running as quickly as her exhaustion would allow towards a spring that bubbled up a hundred yards away, and which once had been the water supply of the old abbey.