She lay motionless there. Martin bent over the child and laid his broad, strong hand on her. At the same moment she was about to turn around quickly and would have fallen down beyond recovery, but Martin's hand lay firmly on her. She could turn her head. A pair of big, wondering eyes looked up at the man.
"God be praised and thanked!" said Martin, taking a deep breath. "Say the same, little one, if you can still speak!"
"Yes, I can still speak! God be praised and thanked!" said the child, in a quite clear voice.
Martin looked in greatest amazement at the child, who was wholly unharmed.
"You must be strangely dear to our Lord, for he has worked a miracle for you. You must never forget it all your life long, little one," he said thoughtfully. Then he lifted the child with his strong right hand up to himself.
"There, now you must put both your arms around my neck, very tight, as if I were your dear papa, for you see, I cannot hold you. I have enough to do, with both my hands, to climb up."
"Yes, yes, I will hold fast," said Rita assuringly and clasping Martin so firmly that he could hardly breathe. But how glad he was!
He now began to climb up the rock. It was no easy task. The blood ran down from his hands and feet. Occasionally he had to rest for a moment. Above stood Herr Feland and the men holding their breath and watching the man sway above the precipice. Would his endurance hold out? Would he come up? Or would he lose his strength? Would he slip and fall with the child into the dark abyss?
Nearer and nearer they came—now only the last frightful steep piece of rock—there——
"God be thanked!" cried Martin, breathless, when he took the last step over the edge. He took the child from his neck and laid her in her trembling father's arms.