As "holding on" was all that either Amy or Pepita could do just then, they obeyed, perforce; although, presently, the burro had scrambled to a narrow ledge, whence she could see the whole descent and from which, if left to herself, she would doubtless have found a way into the valley.
They clung and waited for so long that the girl grew confused; then tried to rally her own courage by addressing the "Californian."
"It's so—so absurd—I mean, awful! If that man doesn't come soon, I shall surely fall. My fingers ache so, and I'm slipping. I—am—slipping! Ah!"
Fortunately, her rescuer was near. He had worked his way upward on all fours, his bare feet clinging securely where shoe-soles would have been useless. He approached without noise, save of breaking twigs, until he was close beside them, when Pepita concluded it was time to bid him welcome.
"Br-r-r-ray! A-humph! A-humph—umph—mph—ph—h!"
The climber halted suddenly.
"Sho-o!"
Also startled, Amy lost her hold and shot downward straight into the arms of the stranger, who seized her, croaking in her ear:—
"Hilloa! What you up to? Can't you wait a minute?"