I heard her whisper, "On, Dolcy, on," and I heard the sharp "whisp" of the whip as she struck the trembling, fearful mare, and urged her into the dark flood.
Dolcy hesitated, but Dorothy struck her again and again with the whip and softly cried, "On, Dolcy, on." Then mare and rider plunged into the swollen river, and I, of course, followed them.

The water was so deep that our horses were compelled to swim, and when we reached the opposite side of the river we had drifted with the current a distance of at least three hundred yards below the road.

We climbed the cliff by a sheep path.

How Dorothy did it I do not know; and how I succeeded in following her I know even less.

When we reached the top of the cliff, Dorothy started off at full gallop, leading the way, and again I followed.