“Oh, thank you for that!” cried the girl, and with these words she fainted in Bob’s arms.
“Why it’s Grace Maverick,” cried Frank Landes, in intense surprise.
“And who is she?” queried Bob, gazing at the beautiful form in rather a helpless way.
“She is the daughter of Gregory Maverick, the president of the T. W. & L. Railroad which runs through Stampton.”
“Well, what shall I do now?” queried Bob, more awed than ever, now he knew who his fair burden was.
“Let me help you down to the brook with her,” replied Landes. “Come this way, there is quite a good path.”
Between them they carried the girl from the narrow ledge to a grassy slope at the base of the cliff. Then Bob took off his cap, filled it with water, and dashed some of it into Grace Maverick’s face.
With something like a gasp the girl came to her senses. She gazed around for a moment, and then sat up.
“Where—where am I?” she stammered, in bewilderment.
“You are safe, Miss Maverick,” returned Frank Landes, politely.