And there stood Liesl, the flower of the flock, her pretty snowy figure against the dark-blue sky.

Even as little Kirl leaped up and called her, she threw up her graceful head as if in pride.
And then there came the most dreadful thing that had ever happened in little Kirl's life.

Exactly how it was he could not afterwards remember, but all in a moment Liesl, who could perch herself, as it seemed, on nothing at all, pretty, sure-footed Liesl was over the edge! Little Kirl threw himself down on his face in an agony, and peered over the edge, calling and screaming wildly in his despair, for there was no hope of saving poor Liesl.

But yes, there was! Down there she had got her fore-foot on a ledge below the brink, and was fighting and scrambling to regain her foothold.

The loose stones were slipping away under the pretty tufts of "student roses" that grew amongst the shale, and poor Liesl was slipping away too, down and down.
She was staring up at him with imploring eyes, with a look that seemed to call aloud for help.