"No, Seppli, don't go any farther," cried his father. "We are coming to the big wall of rock."
But at the same moment there was a shining like fire through the trees. The sun glowed on a bush completely covered with the red flowers. Seppli ran up to it quickly, but he was close to the wall of rock, which extended, rugged and steep, down to the deep precipice below. Seppli looked around and across the flowers down over the rocks. Then he turned around. Herr Feland stood hopeless behind him. The path came to an end, and the child was not found!
Martin seized the boy by the hand and tried to draw him back from the dangerous spot, when Seppli said in his dry way:
"She is lying down there below."
Herr Feland rushed forward and bent over the precipice—his face grew deathly pale. He stepped back and had to cling to the nearest tree, his knees were shaking so. He beckoned to Martin, who was still holding Seppli fast by the hand. Then he stepped to the edge and looked down into the depths. Here and there a few bushes hung over the precipice. In one place, horribly low down, the rock had one small projection, like a narrow shelf. Here lay, nestled on the rock, a motionless little being, with her face pressed against the stone.
"God in Heaven, it is true, there she lies!" said Martin shuddering, "but whether living or——"
He did not finish the sentence. One look at Herr Feland closed his lips. He looked as if he were going to drop dead. But he recovered himself.
"Martin," he said faintly, "no time is to be lost. If the child moves she will be over the precipice. Who will climb down? Who will get her?"
The other men now came along: hopeless, they had followed their little guide through curiosity. They too now looked, one after another, down the wall of rock.
"Listen, you men," said Herr Feland in a trembling voice, "there is not a moment to lose. Who will do it? Who will help? Who dares to go?"