But his indifferent tone had the effect upon her of a plunge into cold water. It braced and stiffened her will. If he wanted to ignore the terrible danger through which she had passed, certainly she was not going to remind him of it. Between where they stood and the summit of the cliff was another rock traverse. A kind of rough, natural stairway led down to a point opposite them. But before this could be reached thirty feet of granite must be crossed. The wall looked hazardous enough in all faith. It lay in the shade, and there were spots where a thin coating of ice covered the smooth slabs. But there was no other way up, and if the traverse could be made the rest was easy. Gordon was mountaineer enough to know that the climb up is safer than the one back. The only possible way for them to go down the trough was for him to lower her by the belt until she found footing enough to go alone. He did not quite admit it to himself, but in his heart he doubted whether she could make it safely. The alternative was the cliff face. CHAPTER V ACROSS THE TRAVERSE Elliot took off his shoes and turned toward the traverse. "Think I'll see if I can cross to that stairway. You had better wait here, Miss O'Neill, until we find out if it can be done." His manner was casual, his voice studiously light. Sheba looked across the cliff and down to the boulder bed two hundred feet below. "You can never do it in the world. Isn't there another way up?" "No. The wall above us slopes out. I've got to cross to the stairway. If I make it I'm going to get a rope." "Do you mean you're going back to town for one?" "Yes." Her eyes fastened to his in a long, unspoken question. She read the answer. He was afraid to have her try the trough again. To get back to town by way of their roundabout ascent would waste time. If he was going to rescue her before night, he must take the shortest cut, and that was across the face of the sheer cliff. For the first time she understood how serious was their plight. "We can go back together by the trough, can't we?" But even as she asked, her heart sank at the thought of facing again that dizzy height. The moment of horror when she had thought herself lost had shaken her nerve. "It would be difficult." The glance of the girl swept again the face of the wall he must cross. It could not be done without a rope. Her fear-filled eyes came back to his. "It's my fault. I made you come," she said in a low voice. "Nonsense," he answered cheerfully. "There's no harm done. If I can't reach the stairway I can come back and go down by the trough." Sheba assented doubtfully. It had come on to drizzle again. The rain was fine and cold, almost a mist, and already it was forming a film of ice on the rocks. "I can't take time to go back by the trough. The point is that I don't want you camped up here after night. There has been no sun on this side of the spur and in the chill of the evening it must get cold even in summer."