Nevertheless, to Ballard and Clancy that seemed exactly what Merriwell was about to do. They watched him, almost holding their breath.
With a little spring, Merriwell landed on the lower edge of the fissure. Less than three feet above him was the overhang. This overhang came close to the shelf below at a distance of four yards upward in its oblique course, and at that place the lower lip of the fissure began to jut out and afford a foothold.
Slowly, digging into crevices with his toes and reaching for others with his hands, Frank began traversing the crack in the wall. Once his foot slipped, and both lads who were watching gave vent to a yell of fright.
“My nerves are all shot to pieces, Chip,” shouted Clancy. “Next time you do a thing like that I’ll throw a fit.”
Frank clung to his place and turned to look smilingly down at his chums.
“Rot!” said he. “Why, fellows, this is as easy as pie.”
He climbed on, crouching lower and lower as the overhang descended toward the shelf below. Presently he was in the narrowest part, hanging to the steep slope of the lower lip of the crevice and compelled to drop on all fours in order to keep inside of it.
“You can’t make yourself thin enough to get through it,” shouted Ballard discouragingly. “Ten feet farther up, Chip, the crack isn’t wide enough for a chipmunk.”
“It looks a whole lot harder from down there,” Frank called back, “than it does from here. When I get to that narrow place, I’ll step out and walk around it.”
“Yes, you will! You’ll play the deuce trying that. I think——”