He was aroused at last by the sound of a stone dislodged near by, which rattled down the mountain.

In a moment, on a steep, rocky slope opposite to him, he beheld a figure cautiously descending--a figure which was not Roderick.

It was Singleton, who had seen him and began to beckon to him.
"Come down--come down!" cried the painter, steadily making his own way down.

Rowland saw that as he moved, and even as he selected his foothold and watched his steps, he was looking at something at the bottom of the cliff.

This was a great rugged wall which had fallen backward from the perpendicular, and the descent, though difficult, was with care sufficiently practicable.
"What do you see ?" cried Rowland.
Singleton stopped, looked across at him and seemed to hesitate; then, "Come down--come down!" he simply repeated.
Rowland's course was also a steep descent, and he attacked it so precipitately that he afterwards marveled he had not broken his neck.
It was a ten minutes' headlong scramble.