Another moan—it might have been an echo from the canyon’s walls—came, more distinct than the first, but the echoing gulch gave no indication of its location.
“Call again, Rollin! It is I,—your own Daphne!”
“Is it indeed you, Daphne?”
She pinched herself to see if she was really awake. She had never heard her Christian name spoken by Burns before. The name sounded strangely sweet in the breaking twilight, and in spite of her apprehension and uncertainty her soul was glad.
“Call again, Rollin! Help is near.”
“Come this way, Daphne! I am in a cave, almost under your feet. A bowlder that I stepped upon rolled over, loosened by the storm, and let me through into the bowels of the earth. My leg is broken. I must have been unconscious. I have swooned or slept, or both. Be careful how you tread. There are badgers in this hole, and I have heard rattlesnakes.”
“Which way, Rollin? Where are you?”
The sound of his voice seemed to come from beneath her feet.
“Is the storm over?”