"Course I am; what d'ye take me for, Toby? Think I want to go to my own funeral in a hurry? Not much. Oh! I c'n be careful, all right. Don't you worry about me. And I want that big-horn worse than ever, I do. Here goes, then."
He started down the face of the almost perpendicular precipice. There were plenty of places where he could get a good foothold, and secure a grip with his ready hands. The only danger seemed to be, as the guide had warned him, in having some apparently secure rock suddenly give way under his weight. He must watch out for that constantly, and never take a fresh step unless he was sure he could maintain his hold upon the last knob of rock.
"Call out if we can help any, Step Hen," was what Davy said, as they saw the last of their companion's head just about to vanish, where the first inward dip to the precipice occurred.
"Sure I will, and just you remember our signal code, Davy. I may have to use it if I get caught tight in a crack, and can't break away nohow. Good-bye, be good to yourselves, now, and don't go to believin' that there's any chance of me losing my grip."
Then he vanished from their sight. A dreadful clatter of falling stones gave the two scouts still above a case of the "trembles" immediately afterwards, and Davy called at the top of his voice:
"I say, Step Hen!"
"All right;" welled up from somewhere below them; "did that on purpose to test a stepping place. Ketch a weasel asleep, before you get me to stand on a loose place, why, it's as easy as fallin' off a log, this is."