James Rutlidge felt it, and his eyes were beginning to blaze with savage
triumph.
They were breathing, now, with hoarse, sobbing gasps, that told of the
nearness of the finish. Slowly, Aaron King weakened. Rutlidge, spurred to
increase his effort, and exerting every ounce of his strength, was bearing
the other downward and back.
At that instant, the convict and Sibyl Andres reached the cliff. With a
cry of horror, the girl stood as though turned to stone.
Motionless, without a word, the convict watched the struggling men.
With a sob, the girl stretched forth her hands. In a low voice she called,
"Aaron! Aaron! Aaron!"
The two men on the ledge heard nothing--saw nothing.
Sibyl spoke again, almost in a whisper, but her companion heard. "Mr.
Marston, Mr. Marston, it is Aaron King. I--I love him--I--love him."
Without taking his eyes from the struggling men, the convict answered,
"Pray, girl; pray, pray for me." As he spoke, he steadily raised his rifle
to his shoulder.
Aaron King went down upon one knee. Rutlidge his legs braced, his body
inclined toward the edge of the precipice, was gathering his strength for
the last triumphant effort.
The convict, looking along his steady rifle barrel, was saying again,
"Pray, pray for me, girl.
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