She couldn't hope to climb far; and, indeed, she didn't ambition to; she'd had enough of that, for one spell.

But climbin' up was nothin', compared to goin' down hill without her staff; so what to do, she didn't know.
"At last, a thought struck her.

She intarmined to make that man help her, in spite of him.

So she sprung forward for a space, like a painter, for life or death, and caught right hold of his cloak.

'Help--help me!' said she, 'or I shall go for it, that's sartain.