Compton overtook her below the ledge, where, as if expecting his coming, she was waiting; and while they were engaged, the others went off on the trail.
"Hurrah!" said Venning, pointing to the ground as they turned into the gorge; "the first string is broken. She came out this way."
They went on, keen as hounds on the scent, and both pointed to the snapped ends of the second string. Passing over the stone wall just built which here crossed the defile, they came to the third cotton— broken also. The fourth was, however, intact, and so was the fifth.
"Thank goodness!" muttered Venning.
"Bad luck, you mean."
"No, sir; good luck. I was beginning to think that she had gone right on down to that dismal pool."
They went back to the broken strand, and Mr. Hume brought the broken ends together. "Just hold them in position." He climbed on the wall, and, with the gorge opening away between the enclosing cliffs, he took his line from the spot where Venning kept his fingers on the broken ends.
"Good," he said, returning. "The cotton was broken at a point two or three yards out of the straight track. She must have gone towards the wall on our right."
Venning's eyes went to the cliff; but the Hunter examined the ground, and expressed his satisfaction at what he saw in a low chuckle.
"What do you see?" asked Venning, breathlessly, glancing quickly at
Mr. Hume's face, and back at the wall of rock.