Montrose had no thought of escape and could not have saved himself even had he been so inclined. He was wholly spent with that fearful climb and was unable to cry out, much less shape his breath into speech. Yet with the instinct of self-preservation--since he was dangerously near the verge of the precipice--he rolled blindly to one side as Enistor dashed heedlessly towards him. One moment he saw the big man reeling with extended hands to clutch and capture in the half-light; the next and his enemy had disappeared over the cliff, crying hoarsely as he realised that he had underestimated the distance. The cry was echoed by Montrose, who nearly lost what few senses remained to him in the horror of the moment. Then it flashed across his bewildered mind that Enistor was dead and that there was no chance of capture for the moment. Striving to regain his breath, to control his mind, to master his nerves, that effort was the insistent thought which governed his whole being. Utterly unmanned, he sobbed hysterically. But the loss of self-control did not last long. By a powerful exercise of the will Montrose succeeded in gaining the mastery of his being and on hands and knees crawled towards the edge of the cliff. He did not expect to see Enistor, as in his impetuous rush the man must have hurled himself directly into the thundering waves which broke far below in white and furious foam. In the moonlight, which radiated strongly for the time being against the face of the sea-front, Montrose saw a dark body half-way down. The Squire had fallen straightly for some distance, then had cannoned off one rock to strike against another, and finally came to rest on a projecting spur, where the senseless body remained, hanging helplessly above the boiling of the witches' cauldron below. Clearly and distinctly Montrose saw the perilous position of his enemy: clearly and distinctly he knew that his enemy could be saved. It remained with him to allow Enistor to die terribly (since the man's first movement when he revived would precipitate him into the hell beneath) or to descend and effect a rescue. How could he do so without a rope and lacking assistance? The young man did not know, but what he did know, and the thought burnt into his brain, was that Enistor could be saved, or doomed. And the choice lay with him.