"If only I can get to them, I shall be safe," said Myra aloud. "Oh, if
only I knew the easiest and quickest way down! I think I can see other
men climbing up as if they had seen me... I wonder if they have seen
me? I wonder if they could hear me if I called?" She had lost some of
her sense of proportion, forgotten how far away the men must be, and
she gathered her breath and shouted as loud as she could: "Help! help!"

Almost instantly there came an answering shout, but to Myra's
consternation the shout came from somewhere above her, and not from
below. She looked round and upwards, but at first could see no one,
then she heard the shout again, heard the voice of Don Carlos cry:
"Myra, where are you?" saw a head appear over the side of a rocky ledge
about fifty feet above her, and panic seized her again.

From the little plateau there ran for a distance a sort of natural
path, and down this Myra fled as fast as her feet would carry
her--which was not fast, for already her thin shoes were almost in
ribbons, and one foot had been badly cut by a sharp stone. But she was
scarcely conscious of the pain in her anxiety to escape.

She could hear Don Carlos shouting to her to stop, and fancied she
could hear him in close pursuit as she sped down the steep path. Again
she came to the edge of a ravine, and she had to creep cautiously along
the edge of a rough and treacherous path.