At first she was so appalled that she could do no more than clutch the
tree convulsively and look with blank horror at the spot where she had
seen him last. Then came the thought, "His life may now depend upon
me."
The distance he had fallen would not be necessarily fatal, and below
the ledge there were low scrubby trees that might have broken the
impetus of his descent. She called in tones that might have evoked
an answer even from the lips of death; then, with a resolution in her
pallid face which nothing could daunt, she sought to reach her side.
At first Graydon was utterly unconscious. At last, like a dim light
entering a darkened room, thought and memory began to revive. He
remembered that he had been at Madge's side, and had fallen; he had
grasped at branches of trees as he passed through them, and then all
had become dark. He tried to speak, to call his companion, but found
be could not. He almost doubted whether he was alive in the flesh. If
he were he must have received some terrible injury that had caused a
strange paralysis.
His confused thoughts finally centred wholly on Madge. Had she fallen?
The thought of her, perhaps injured, possibly lying unconscious or
dead near him, and he helpless, caused a dull, vague dread, like a
cold tide, to overwhelm his very soul.
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