[CHAPTER III.]
THE PRECIOUS STOCKING.
"Thick veined with amethyst and zeolite."
Marie had now joined her father near the head of the cove, and was an interested though silent spectator of the events that were transpiring. The intensity of her feeling was shown in her eyes. She forgot herself entirely in the overpowering emotion caused by the danger Winslow was in, and by his inability to do anything to aid his escape from the ledge without the assistance of her father. At the same time she feared that even Pierre could not rescue him. Her fear for the young man was greater than her confidence in her father's skill to aid him, the situation of Winslow seemed so terribly fraught with danger.
"Pass up your rope, now, Len," said Winslow, as he saw the young man making a suitable coil for throwing, and measuring the distance to the shelf with his eye.
"Try a throw from that high rock there, skipper."
Len did as he was directed, but the rope did not reach half the necessary height.
"Have you a ball of stout twine?" asked Winslow, his mind alert and stronger now. "If so, throw it up to me, and I will let down the end for your rope."