From his work of sweeping out the stale saloon, Frosty had seen her. She was a strange sight, her hair half down, her face white and drawn, her step so uncertain. Frosty was very fond of her in his stupid silent way. He yelled and ran toward her.
In this day of excitement, a cry brought a dozen heads to a dozen windows and doors. In a moment the girl was surrounded. The men were puzzled. "Plain case of bug-juice," said one, a little sorrowfully.
She felt someone trying gently to lead her somewhere, but she resisted, crying "Let me go, let me go. I want to get to the big rock."
Graham pushed his way anxiously into the group. He had not been able to bring himself to attend the dance the evening before, but he had been told the details, and up to now had felt rather relieved than otherwise at the turn affairs had taken.
"Why do you want to go to the big rock, Molly?" he asked gently.
At the sound of his voice she began to cry a little. "It is so high up there, so high," she said over and over.
"Of course it's high, Molly, very high; but don't you think you'd better wait until to-morrow?"
The men stood about with awe-stricken faces. They saw now that there was more in this than they had at first supposed. "Nutty," they whispered to each other in undertones.
"Such a long way down, a long way down," went on the girl. "I could jump from there very easily; such a long way down!"
Graham took her quietly by the shoulders.