Running to the verge of the bushgrown plateau, I explored the rocky slope beneath without seeing her form, and then called: "Rima! Rima!" A soft, warbling sound, uttered by no bird, came up from the shadowy bushes far below; and in that direction I ran on; then pausing, called again.

The sweet sound was repeated once more, but much lower down now, and so faintly that I scarcely heard it.

And when I went on further and called again and again, there was no reply, and I knew that she had indeed gone on that long journey alone..