In another instant, with a coil of rope around his arm, he was dashing down the almost perpendicular “slide.” When he had nearly reached the level of the abandoned trail, he fastened one end of the rope to a jutting splinter of granite, and began to “lay out,” and work his way laterally along the face of the mountain. Presently he struck the regular trail at the point from which the woman must have diverged.
“It is Rand,” she said, without lifting her head.
“It is,” replied Rand coldly. “Pass the rope under your arms, and I'll get you back to the trail.”
“Where is Ruth?” she demanded again, without moving. She was trembling, but with excitement rather than fear.
“I don't know,” returned Rand impatiently. “Come! the ledge is already crumbling beneath our feet.”
“Let it crumble!” said the woman passionately.
Rand surveyed her with profound disgust, then passed the rope around her waist, and half lifted, half swung her from her feet. In a few moments she began to mechanically help herself, and permitted him to guide her to a place of safety. That reached, she sank down again.
The rising moon shone full upon her face and figure. Through his growing indignation Rand was still impressed and even startled with the change the few last months had wrought upon her. In place of the silly, fanciful, half-hysterical hoyden whom he had known, a matured woman, strong in passionate self-will, fascinating in a kind of wild, savage beauty, looked up at him as if to read his very soul.
“What are you staring at?” she said finally. “Why don't you help me on?”
“Where do you want to go?” said Rand quietly.