“Shall I shout?” he asked.
“No! You say there's no use—there's only this way out of it!”
“I might go up first, and perhaps get assistance—a rope or chair,” he suggested.
“And leave me here alone?” she cried, with a horrified glance at the abyss. “No, thank you! I should be over that ledge before you came back! There's a dreadful fascination in it even now. No! I think I'd rather go—at once! I never shall be stronger as long as I stay near it; I may be weaker.”
She gave a petulant little shiver, and then, though paler and evidently agitated, composed her tattered and dusty outer garments in a deft, ladylike way, and leaned back against the mountain side, He saw her also glance at his loosened shirt front and hanging neckerchief, and with a heightened color he quickly re-knotted it around his throat. They moved from the ledge toward the trail. Suddenly she started back.
“But it's only wide enough for ONE, and I never—NEVER—could even stand on it a minute alone!” she exclaimed.
He looked at her critically. “We will go together, side by side,” he said quietly, “but you will have to take the outside.”
“Outside!” she repeated, recoiling. “Impossible! I shall fall.”
“I shall keep hold of you,” he explained; “you need not fear that. Stop! I'll make it safer.” He untied the large bandanna silk handkerchief which he wore around his shoulders, knotted one end of it firmly to his belt, and handed her the other.
“Do you think you can hold on to that?”