"When they had climbed somewhat higher than the church spire that towered aloft over the village across the river, a fisherman, going to raise his nets, beheld them; and raising a shout of alarm, it was not long before the street in the village was filled with excited people. Men yelled with hoarse voices, pleading with 'Aunt Twaddles' to come down, but their voices sounded faintly upon the ears of the children, who hung dangling from the end of 'Aunt Twaddles'' skirt, high up in the air.
"The old, one-legged Inn-keeper hastened away, pounding his peg-leg on the boards of the bridge, in a vain effort to get over to where his squeaky voice might be heard; but without pausing to heed the tumult below, 'Aunt Twaddles' continued on up the face of the cliff, constantly warning the two children to 'Hold fast!'
"Old Jonas, the fisherman, with dripping fish net gathered under his arms, ran with all his might over the long foot-bridge and down the opposite bank, where strong men, with pale faces, aided him in stretching it at the base of the cliff, to catch, as he said, the lifeless and mangled bodies of the two children in case they should fall.
"Old Nimrod, the hunter, came tottering out of the bar-room at the inn, his long trusty rifle in hand, renewing his vow that 'Aunt Twaddles' was a witch, as he took rest on the rail of the bridge, firmly resolved to shoot her in case the children should let go. With eagle eye he gazed along the polished barrel of his gun and covered the sight-sickening climb with an unfaltering aim.
"Out in the village street, women stood crying and wringing their hands, while strong men turned white at the sight of the fat woman, swaying and wabbling from side to side in her effort to get up the face of the mountain.
"From the loud sound of her puffing and blowing, she seemed almost exhausted. Now she would stumble and totter as if about to fall, when, suddenly grasping with desperate hand a stout, scrubby bush, or a ledge of the broken rock, she would steady herself for a time and by the merest chance gain a fortunate foothold.
"Even the dogs began howling everywhere throughout the village. Every house stood wide-open and deserted. Someone entered the old village church and began slowly tolling the bell, the sound of which seemed to add a doleful appeal to Heaven for the safety and care of the children.
"Slower and slower, weaker and weaker, yet onward and upward, 'Aunt Twaddles' toiled on the face of the cliff, when suddenly one loud moan of horror swept from the parched throats of the multitude as 'Aunt Twaddles,' by accident, stepped on the end of her long skirt and reeling from the face of the rock, started to fall. Men turned from the horrible sight and sank to their knees, while over in the village women fell helpless into each others arms for support and turned from the sickening scene.
"The crack of a rifle rang out on the air from the end of the foot-bridge and a puff of blue dust arose from the face of the cliff just over 'Aunt Twaddles'' head, where the bullet had shattered the rock.
"Loud shouted the voice of Old Jonas, the fisherman, 'Stretch the net tight, men! Stretch the net tight! They are falling!' While strong limbs steadied themselves and firm hands drew tight on the meshes of stout twine.