slight accident to one of my stirrup-leathers forced me to dismount. I called to my companion to ride on, and that I would overtake him immediately, and he did so. The road at that point runs along the mountain side, between a lofty cliff upon the left and a precipitous descent upon the right—but the path is broad and smooth, being, I should say, from ten to fifteen yards wide, and in no way dangerous. About fifty or sixty yards from the spot where I dismounted the path turned at a sharp angle round a point of rock and became lost to sight. I happened to look up, while still engaged upon the stirrup leather, and I saw my friend disappear round the angle of the road. As soon as I had finished my work, which took me somewhat longer than I had expected, I remounted, and was about to follow him when I was startled to hear his voice cry out for help. It was a shriek—a single ringing scream—uttered as if in extremity of agony or terror. I galloped forward, and on reaching the angle of the road I was surprised to see his pony standing in the roadway, some sixty yards ahead, with the saddle empty. The rider was nowhere to be seen."
"The rider was nowhere to be seen."
"What time had elapsed since he left you?"
"I should say about four or five minutes—possibly six—but not more than that, I feel sure."
"What did you do next?"
"I rode forward, calling his name loudly, and casting my eyes in all directions, but I could see no trace of him, nor of any living creature. The cliff, which at that point formed a deep bay, round which the roadway ran to the corresponding angle at the other extremity of the arc, was as steep and naked as a wall; on the other hand was the precipice. When I reached the spot at which the pony stood, I perceived that it was trembling, as if strongly startled; it made no effort to escape. One of the stirrups was lying across the saddle; the other was hanging in the usual position. I saw nothing else unusual about the pony, but on casting my eyes upon the snowy roadway I perceived marks as if a struggle had taken place there."
"What was the position of these marks?"
"They were in front of the pony, on the forward track, and appeared as if some heavy body had been dragged for a distance of eight or ten yards. Then the marks ceased abruptly; the snow all round was absolutely undisturbed."
"There were no footprints?"
"None whatever, except those of our two ponies on the way by which we had come. The road in front was a white sheet—it was clear that no one could have passed that way since the snow fell."
"Did the marks extend to the edge of the precipice?"
"Oh, no; they did not stretch in that direction at all. The snow between them and the verge of the precipice was absolutely smooth and unbroken."
"Did you approach the verge?"
"Yes; I did. I looked over and saw something white fluttering on the branches of a tree which sprouted from a crevice a few yards below. It was Mr. Carboyne's handkerchief; I knew it by the peculiar coloured border. I had seen him use it that morning. I could not discern the bottom of the chasm, which was hidden by the branches of the trees growing at the base.
