Where I was wrong was in not heading for higher level.

The bench I intended to follow is clearly above us." Weston glanced at Ida, and noticed that her face was very weary and a trifle gray, but she smiled at him reassuringly; and they floundered on until the wall of rock pushed them right out to the edge of the declivity.

They clung to it here and there with their hands while they felt for a foothold among the banks of gravel.

Suddenly, Ida slipped and clutched at Weston.

Her hand fell upon the package of provisions that he had slung behind his shoulders with a strip of deerhide, and, for she was of full stature and not particularly slender, it broke away.