"Don't talk so foolishly, Mr. Jones," said Cynthia, smiling at me. "While there's life, there's hope. Perhaps there is another entrance to the terrace from where we are. If Zalee were only here, he could tell us. He seems to know these mountains as if they were his own home, but I have asked Lacelle if there is any other way out. She says that Zalee said nothing about it."
"Don't you think she might prospect a little?" said I.
"How do you mean?" asked Cynthia.
"Why, walk up your little shelf as far back as it goes, and see if there is no way out for you. I feel so helpless." I wrung my hands nervously. "I can do nothing."
"Don't worry," said Cynthia, looking brightly at me. "I am sure we shall find some way out of it. The only trouble is that I am dreadfully hungry."
"We can throw you some food," said I.
"And water?"
"No, I'm afraid not. But it won't be long, I am sure, until we have devised some means of rescuing you."
Cynthia sat down on the rock and put her hands over her face. I thought that she was crying until I heard the laughter bubbling forth.
"I really can not help it," she said. "Do excuse me, but you look so woebegone. So many things have happened that I really am not at all afraid that we shan't get out of this as we have out of all our other troubles. Now I'll go and send Lacelle to see if she can find any opening."