Venters crossed this belt of cedars, skirted the upper border, and recognized the tree he had marked, even before he saw his waving scarf.
Here he knelt and deposited the girl gently, feet first and slowly laid her out full length.

What he feared was to reopen one of her wounds.
If he gave her a violent jar, or slipped and fell! But the supreme confidence so strangely felt that night admitted no such blunders.
The slope before him seemed to swell into obscurity to lose its definite outline in a misty, opaque cloud that shaded into the over-shadowing wall.

He scanned the rim where the serrated points speared the sky, and he found the zigzag crack.

It was dim, only a shade lighter than the dark ramparts, but he distinguished it, and that served.
Lifting the girl, he stepped upward, closely attending to the nature of the path under his feet.

After a few steps he stopped to mark his line with the crack in the rim.