cord dangling down the face of the

brown cliff seemed from above to reach little more than half-way

down it. beyond stretched the rugged rock, wet and shining, with

a green tuft here and there thrusting out from it, but little

sign of ridge or foothold. far below the jagged points of the

boulders bristled up, dark and menacing. norbury tugged thrice

with all his strength upon the cord, and then lowered himself

over the edge, while a hundred anxious faces peered over at him

as he slowly clambered downwards to the end of the rope. twice

he stretched out his foot, and twice he failed to reach the point

at which he aimed, but even as he swung himself for a third

effort a stone from a sling buzzed like a wasp from amid the

rocks and struck him full upon the side of his head. his grasp

relaxed, his feet slipped, and in an instant he was a crushed and

mangled corpse upon the sharp ridges beneath him.

"if i have no better fortune," said alleyne, leading sir nigel

aside. "i pray you, my dear lord, that you will give my humble

service to the lady maude, and say to her that i was ever her

true servant and most unworthy cavalier."

the old knight said no word, but he put a hand on either

shoulder, and kissed his squire, with the tears shining in his

eyes. alleyne sprang to the rope, and sliding swiftly down, soon

found himself at its extremity. from above it seemed as though

rope and cliff were well-nigh touching, but now, when swinging a

hundred feet down, the squire found that he could scarce reach

the face of the rock with his foot, and that it was as smooth as

glass, with no resting-place where a mouse could stand. some

three feet lower, however, his eye lit upon a long jagged crack

which slanted downwards, and this he must reach if he would save

not only his own poor life, but that of the eight-score men

above him. yet it were madness to spring for that narrow slit

with nought but the wet, smooth rock to cling to. he swung for a

moment, full of thought, and even as he hung there another of the

hellish stones sang through his curls, and struck a chip from the

face of the cliff. up he clambered a few feet, drew up the loose

end after him, unslung his belt, held on with knee and with elbow

while he spliced the long, tough leathern belt to the end of the

cord: then lowering himself as far as he could go, he swung

backwards and forwards until his hand reached the crack, when he

left the rope and clung to the face of the cliff. another stone

struck him on the side, and he heard a sound like a breaking

stick, with a keen stabbing pain which shot through his chest.

yet it was no time now to think of pain or ache. there was his

lord and his eight-score comrades, and they must be plucked from

the jaws of death. on he clambered, with his hand shuffling down

the long sloping crack, sometimes bearing all his weight upon his

arms, at others finding some small shelf or tuft on which to rest

his foot. would he never pass over that fifty feet? he dared not

look down and could but grope slowly onwards, his face to the

cliff, his fingers clutching, his feet scraping and feeling for a

support. every vein and crack and mottling of that face of rock

remained forever stamped upon his memory. at last, however, his

foot came upon a broad resting-place and he ventured to cast a

glance downwards. thank god! he had reached the highest of those

fatal pinnacles upon which his comrade had fallen. quickly now he

sprang from rock to rock until his feet were on the ground, and

he had his hand stretched out for the horse's rein, when a

sling-stone struck him on the head, and he dropped senseless upon

the ground.

an evil blow it was for alleyne, but a worse one still for him

who struck it. the spanish slinger, seeing the youth lie slain,

and judging from his dress that he was no common man, rushed

forward to plunder him, knowing well that the bowmen above him

had expended their last shaft. he was still three paces,

however, from his victim's side when john upon the cliff above

plucked up a huge boulder, and, poising it for an instant,

dropped it with fatal aim upon the slinger beneath him. it

struck upon his shoulder, and hurled him, crushed and screaming,

to the ground, while alleyne, recalled to his senses by these

shrill cries in his very ear, staggered on to his feet, and gazed

wildly about him. his eyes fell upon the horses, grazing upon

the scanty pasture, and in an instant all had come back to him--

his mission, his comrades, the need for haste. he was dizzy,

sick, faint, but he must not die, and he must not tarry, for his

life meant many lives that day. in an instant he was in his

saddle and spurring down the valley. loud rang the swift

charger's hoofs over rock and reef, while the fire flew from the

stroke of iron, and the loose stones showered up behind him