In order to pass the ledge, the two boys were compelled to descend a short distance on the hill and so dense was the fog on the summit that the rocks disappeared from sight ere they had taken a dozen steps. Judging that they passed the obstruction, they once more turned up the slope and tramped on, hoping each moment that they would be in luck and would come upon the pile of bowlders where they had discovered the sheathbills.
“Say, we must have been way off our course,” panted Jim at last. “We’ve been walking for half an hour and seems to me we’re going down hill.”
“I thought that too,” replied Tom, “but I guess it’s just the effect of the fog.”
For ten minutes more, the boys continued and then, coming to a mass of fallen rock, they found further progress barred by a bold perpendicular cliff.
“Well, we can’t go any further,” observed Tom. “Now we’ll have to go back and try the other direction.”
“I’m going to rest first,” insisted Jim. “There’s no use in getting all tired out.”
Seating themselves upon a piece of rock, the boys were talking over their predicament when, suddenly, there was a cracking sound. The boys felt their seat moving and leaped aside as the mass of rock gave way and went crashing down the hill. But while the boys had saved themselves from an injury, yet they had not saved themselves from a tumble, and as they jumped from the rock their feet shot out from under them and rolling and sliding, they followed after the stone for a dozen rods before they could check their headlong course.
At the same instant they heard a tremendous crash from below followed by a shout:
“Hi, there! What’n tarnation’s broke loose? Derned ef the whole mounting ain’t a-tumbling down!”
With wild yells the boys leaped to their feet, and regardless of danger, raced down the hillside. Before they had covered a hundred feet they reached level ground and plumped full into Cap’n Pem, bowling the old man over like a ninepin.