“I reckon they came around the sharp curve over there. They could hide and not be seen by the driver of the stage until he was almost upon them.”
Anxiously Mary asked, “There wouldn’t be any bandits on this road these days, would there?”
It was Dora who answered, “Mary Moore, you know there wouldn’t be. Jerry told us that this road is abandoned by practically all travelers.” Then turning to the cowboy, Dora excitedly exclaimed, “Why, Jerry, if this is the spot where the stage was held up and where the horses plunged off the road, don’t you think it’s possible something may be left of the stage, something that we could find?”
“That’s what I reckoned,” the cowboy said slowly. “Dick and I were planning to climb down the side of the cliff here and see what we could unearth, but I reckon we’d better give up and go home. Dick, you and I can come back some other time—alone.”
“Oh, no!” Dora pleaded. “Mary and I are all over being afraid. We have on our divided skirts, and, if it’s safe for you to climb down Devil’s Drop, why, it’s safe for us, isn’t it, Mary?”
“If Jerry says so,” was the trusting reply accompanied by an equally trusting glance from sweet blue eyes.
Instead of answering, Jerry beckoned Dick over to the edge of the steep drop. It was not a sheer descent. Every few feet down there was a narrow ledge, almost like uneven stairs. There were scrubby growths in crevices to which the girls could cling. About one hundred feet down there was a wide-flung ledge and then another descent, how perilous that was they could not discern from where they stood.
“We could get the girls down to that first wide ledge easily enough,” Dick said, “if you think we ought.”
Jerry spoke in a low voice which, the girls could not hear. “I’m terribly sorry we brought them. My plan was to have them sit in the car up here in the road while we went down to hunt for a skeleton of that old stage coach, but now that Mary’s afraid of a wild animal attacking them, we just can’t leave them alone. They don’t either of them know how to use a gun. I reckon what we ought to do is go back home and—”
Dick shook his head. “They won’t let us now,” he said, and he was right, for the girls, tired of waiting, skipped toward them saying in a sing-song, “Verse seven!”