"What a grand sight!" exclaimed Robert, surveying the great fall with boyish enthusiasm.
He had scarcely uttered these words when he felt a violent push at the side, and felt himself impelled toward the brink of the precipice. He would infallibly have fallen if he had not seized with the desperate clutch of self-preservation the arm of James Cromwell. As it was, he hung balancing over the brink, and nearly carried the clerk with him. Cromwell saw that it must be either both or neither, and he drew Robert back to a place of safety.
"Good Heavens! Mr. Cromwell," exclaimed the boy, his face pale with horror, "what does this mean? Did you mean to push me over?"
"What a question!" returned Cromwell, himself pale. "Thank Heaven! I have saved you!"
"But you pushed me!" said the boy, suspiciously. "If I hadn't clung to you, I should have fallen!" and he shuddered at the thought.
"Yes; it is true. I will explain. I am troubled with fits occasionally which make me rigid and convulsed. Whenever I feel one coming on I grasp convulsively at whatever is nearest me. I felt one coming on a moment ago, and that led me to seize you. But I believe my terror, for I came near going over the precipice with you, has saved me from the threatened attack."
"Do you often have these fits?" asked Robert.
"I have not had one for three months, but lately I have been apprehending one, for I have not felt as well as usual. Indeed, I have a violent headache now. I think I will go to the hotel and lie down, if you can amuse yourself for awhile."
"Yes, you had better do so. I can get along quite well."
Robert easily credited the plausible explanation which had been given, for he could not believe that Cromwell would deliberately seek his life. He did not know the powerful motive which prompted him.
About a fortnight from the time of their departure the two travelers reached a town in Southern Indiana, which we will call Madison. They had traveled leisurely, stopping at several places on the way. Cromwell had not ventured upon a second attempt upon the life of Robert Raymond. The first failure had left on his mind an impression of fear, and he resolved that he would not again attempt open violence. If anything was to be done, it should be by more subtle and hidden ways.