Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed this fanfic.

There are a few things I wish to address. Firstly, I have never had a rock-climbing experience or even a camping experience. All this is written from a theoretical knowledge acquired from merely reading about it. Secondly, the fact that Bess and George are pro-rock climbers was mentioned in 'Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys Super Mystery #4: Gold Medal Murder'.

Enjoy the story!

Story so Far:- While on a camping trip with Bess and George, Nancy goes rock-climbing. The owners of the campsite join them and things aren't going to be sugar-sweet for much longer.

Chapter 3: A Failed Attempt

I heaved myself up the slope and wiped the sweat off my brow. Bess and George stood in front of me grinning. Predictably, they had reached the top first. They have practised on rocks much more difficult. To them this slightly tilting rock surface is not a challenge at all.

"Finished fast, Nance," George said. True. Only a handful of climbers have made it to the top. Most of them are still panting on the slope.

Amelia joins us. She climbs pretty fast as well. She was among the first few to reach the top, just a little after Bess and George. "It's a hot day," she comments blinking up at the glaring sun.

"And it's going to get even hotter," Mr. Jones said walking over, "If you stand huddled together like this. You are radiating off each other's body heat. Spread out. It will be cooler." He was right. Standing close made it even stuffier. We all step back, effectively increasing the air circulation.

Mr. Jones glances over at the ropes casually. He got up the slope first, carrying one end of a bundle of ropes, the other end of which we fixed to our climbing gears. His end of the ropes, he had fixed to a pole with double knots and triple knots. I have to admit, given his age he is remarkably strong.

While we let ourselves cool down, we heard a shriek, a sudden female shriek.

Mr. Jones said, "Well someone might have slipped..." He stops mid-sentence. He is clearly agitated.

And so am I. When I looked at the pole. One of the ropes has gone slack. Mr. Jones looks dumbfounded as the realisation hits him and in those few seconds we hear another shriek. Mr. Jones runs over to the cliff and the handful of people on the top follow him. In the crowd of all the climbers, it takes a second to find the person who shouted.

It is easy to recognise the chestnut hair, sharp features and those blue eyes shining with fear as she flails hopelessly, falling through the air.

Ariana Willin's feet hit an outward projection of rock and her speed reduces. She rolls the final few feet and luckily, luckily her brief contact with the rock has angled her body leftwards and she lands on a clump of bushes.

My stomach dropped as if I had missed a step while climbing the stairs as I registered the ground a few feet to her right littered with deadly, huge rocks. If her feet hadn't hit that outcropping of rock...I don't even want to think about the consequences.

My eyes find the rope which had been attached to Ariana's safety breech. It is about a quarter of the distance from the top.

The place where it had been severed did not look like it had worn out. It looked like it had been cut off on purpose. How could anyone possibly know who cut it off in the mass of climbers...

We hear a faint rolling sound. Then an object materialises. It rolls down the edge stumbling here and there. It comes in contact with someone's leg and we hear a cry of anguish.

It rolls down all the way to the foot of the slope. My heart sinks. As it reflects a sliver of sunlight falling on it, it would be impossible to not recognise it. It is a sharp blade which had been used to sever the rope.

No one would ever get to know who rolled it down...

Bess and George followed me as we made our way through the crowd. We keep moving till we reach the mouth of Mr. Jones' tent.

Mr. Jones looks agitated as he stands beside Ariana who sits on a foldable chair as she receives basic first aid from Amelia. Her sister also stands by passively. Mr. Malcolm awkwardly hangs around as if unsure what to do.

Ariana just sits there appearing unfazed. As Amelia finishes with the last scratch and stands up, Mr. Jones begins, "I am extremely sorry. I don't know which of the campers did...that, and I am doubtful if we will ever now but if I ever get to know, the person won't go unpunished," he says determinedly.

Ariana shook her head. "It wasn't your fault. Though I would really like to know whose it is." Her eyes scanned over the entire camp-ground, as if hoping to spot the rope-severer.

"Nancy can find the person," Amelia said shooting a furtive glance at me. "She is pretty well known in River Heights for solving mysteries."

Everyone turned towards me. "Well, I can try...if you don't mind."

"I really doubt if you can do anything," she said dismissively. Apparently, she didn't have much faith in a youngster. "Well, go ahead if you want. It wouldn't hurt to try." She said the last word with a hint of sarcasm. Bess and George glared at her.

Jenny Willin commented, "Anyways, in such a situation one ought to inform the police. I don't think anyone had the basic foresight to..."

"I think Mr. Gordon did ring up the local police station," Mr. Malcolm cut off her in mid-sentence, "He seemed really agitated when he discovered that Miss Willin had rolled down the hill."

Jenny scowled on being interrupted. Ariana pursed her lips, "I doubt the police will be of much help. They can so easily be...misled. "

"Just because you doubt something, need not mean it has to be doubted," Jenny retorted back angrily.

The two sisters glared at each other over the contradiction.

Mr. Jones looked at a loss for words as he tried to reduce the tension. He was spared the necessity of intervening by the wail of sirens of the approaching police vehicles. All heads turned towards the front gate.

"About time too," I thought, "True, there aren't many police stations around but neither are there many crimes happening around here."

A few seconds later Mr. Gordon rushed over to us looking slightly harassed, "They are asking for you Miss Willin," he directly addressed the blue-eyed girl.

Ariana shot a last glare at her sister and shakily made her way towards the front of the estate. Jenny pursed her lips and unwillingly followed her sister. Mr. Malcolm and Mr. Jones also tarried along.

Amelia turned around and her eyes met mine, pleading. I nodded. Even if Ariana Willin didn't think much of me, I wasn't going to stand around doing nothing.

"Come on," I muttered to Bess and George. The two of them exchanged a smiling glance. They knew that I wasn't going to stop till I got to the bottom of this.

The three of us pushed through the crowd trying our best to follow the way to the police wagons. On reaching the clearing around the campfire, I saw the police inspector sitting on one of the legs talking to Ariana.

Ariana had regained her composure somewhat but still looked rather windswept. I moved closer so that I could hear their conversation.

I made my way towards the front of the crowd.

I finally got a good glimpse of the inspector. He appeared to be in his mid-forties and looked formidable. He had a low, growling voice. His hair had started greying. The nametag read H. Ropkins.

He was asking Amelia for permission to interrogate and access to the premises of the estate.

Whatever 'doubts' Amelia might have had about the police; she kept her talk cordial with them. Maybe she had realised that Mr. Ropkins wasn't one to be crossed.

I felt somebody tap my shoulder. I turned around and saw John with Michael next to him. Michael's face looked extremely pale.

John noticed my concerned look. He said in a low voice, "We were on the cliff when Miss Willin went rolling by us. You see, the car in which Mike was, on the day of the-you know-had rolled off the side of a hill. He had a flashback to that day which is really traumatizing him."

I nodded. "What's going on here?" John asked suddenly. "The police are going to start investigating," I turned around and heard Mr. Ropkins give instructions to round up the servants.

"Nancy!" Amelia called. I saw her hurrying over looking exhausted. "I am sorry Nancy. I didn't think she," Amelia looked at Ariana, "would react like that," she ended appearing guilty.

"It's okay Amelia. I didn't mind it much," I said dismissively.

"Still, if it's okay with you, pleases try to do something about it. I mean," she looked around warily and lowered her voice, "Listen Nancy, it's evident that it is one of the campers who attempted to murder Ariana Willin. It's really embarrassing for dad, so if you were to find out the person, it would really mean a lot," she ended with a pale face.

"Of course Amelia, I am going to try my best-," my words hang in the air as Bess grabs my elbow with a squeak.

My eyes follow her gaze. An officer handed Mr. Ropkins the blade which had rolled down the cliff, only it isn't a blade.

The image of Bess swishing her knife last night while chopping the vegetables surfaces and I don't blame Bess for turning mute.

George whispers, "Looks like a knife can do more than dice a potato."

Bess has a great foresight.

Author's Note: Well, I have final given you a mini-crime to think about. Do review what you think about this chapter. It would really make my day.