military cut, not stilted like Carlotta's, but attractively feminine, Ben thought, were already on the first plank.
Ben followed, right behind, ready to grasp her if she faltered, then Spanish Dick with considerable ease, for his hardened bare feet had an almost prehensile faculty now, and finally, Don Alfonso, bewildered but with implicit faith in the guidance of his light-hearted master. The crossing achieved, he crouched at Dick's feet, his salmon-hued tongue lolling over his jaws. It was funny—that little yellow dog seemed the most human thing, the clearest connecting link with their old world, in all that strange setting.
They walked along the ledge of the gorge toward the sea, not always daring to look down, for the sheer cliffs were dizzying, but now and then glancing at the trickling stream, as it raced with bright-flashing courage to meet the leagues of rollers, storming the breast of the sea wall just beyond.
They reached the wall, facing the west, high above the tossing white plumes. Northward, they could see the masts and spars of the North Star and, near by, the strange yacht, both, at that distance, looking like miniature models rather than craft that sailed the ocean.
"We'll call this a day's work, Sally," said Ben. "You can't go any further. The cave is at the end of the path—just in the second curve of the S. But there's no use trying to look at it. That's just what that big buzzard up there wants you to do. I'll tell you all about it just as well."
"Not when I've come as far as this," she said. "I'm not one of your fussed up city girls, and I can climb. Why, I've
