He shook the weakness from him—he must be a man!—and he shut his eyes as he tried to picture to himself how the place looked by daylight. He had crossed the trestle a hundred times and gazed down into the ravine, admiring its rugged beauty. For centuries that little stream, which started in a spring high up on the hillside, had been labouring patiently digging this channel for itself, eating its way through earth and rock and slate, fashioning for itself a little narrow valley, just as the great streams make for themselves broad and fertile ones. It had eaten its way down and down, leaving on either side, extending to a height of nearly a hundred feet, rocky and precipitous banks. Allan remembered how in summer those banks were clothed in green; how he had looked down at them from the trestle. One day he had descried a brilliant patch of wild flowers near the bottom, where they had grown and spread, safe from man’s intrusion. He had never thought how much would one day depend upon his knowledge of the place, or he would have examined the banks more closely. Something swished through the air above him, and fell with a mighty splash into the torrent—it was the rail—it had been torn loose—the wreckers’ work was done. Now, they had only to wait until the train came dashing past! Perhaps even at this moment it was nearing the destruction which threatened it! The boy shuddered at the thought, and made another vain and desperate effort to scramble up the bank. This time he managed to get hold of a little bush high above his head, but, as he was pulling himself up, the bush gave way and he fell again to the bottom. He realized that he could never hope to climb that treacherous bank, that he must follow the ravine until it grew wider and shallower. Yet how could he do that and still be in time to save the train? There must be some way out near at hand! The robbers must have provided some path by which to get down to the wrecked train and get up again with their booty. But no doubt the path, if there was one, was on the other side of the ravine, where it would be of no use to him; very probably there was no path at all. The robbers had merely to let down a rope to provide a means of entrance and exit. He would have to go around, and he started blindly forward down the stream, holding his lantern tight, trembling to think of the precious moments he had wasted,—of the ones that he must yet waste before he could gain the track above and warn the engineer of the peril which lay before him. It was a desperate chance, but it seemed the only one.