Prisoners of Chance

"Eloise, steady me with hand against the cliff," I panted, and stepped forth boldly upon the trunk. My moccasoned feet gripped the rough bark firmly, yet I swayed horribly under my burden, as I footed the treacherous way. Again and again I felt myself swaying wildly, yet some power held us, until, at last, I stood on solid rock, utterly unable to essay another yard. Panting for breath, my arms yet clasping the motionless figure of Eloise, I glanced backward in apprehension. I could perceive Cairnes footing the log, the head of the priest showing black and distinct above his broad shoulder; beyond, a medley of dark figures appeared to dance dizzily along the cliff face. I staggered to my knees. With a growl of relief the Puritan dropped his burden. The next instant he had one great shoulder under the tree root. Heaving with all his mighty strength he slowly moved the great trunk, and I saw it topple over into the abyss; I saw his burly figure tottering on the very brink--then one awful flash lit up the sky, so blinding me that I sank face downward on the rock. The cliff shook as if riven from crest to valley, a single peal of thunder reverberating like the report of a thousand guns.