He sent the machine ahead at a swift pace. The road led along the top of a plateau and ran close to the edge of a cliff. As the machine neared this spot the cries became louder. Near the edge of the precipice Jerry brought the machine to a stop.
“They are down there,” he announced, after listening carefully.
The boys dismounted from the car and approached the ledge. It went down straight for about fifty feet and then bulged out into a shelf before making a sheer descent to the valley, three hundred feet below.
Near the edge of the precipice the earth and rocks were freshly torn away, showing that something had gone over. Jerry got down on his hands and knees and crept to the edge. What he saw as he looked down made him spring to his feet and shout in mingled fear and astonishment.
There, on a jutting spur of the mountain, hardly large enough to hold them, were the three missing men.
“Are you hurt?” Jerry called down.
“Bruised and scratched, but no bones broken,” shouted Nestor. “You’ll have to haul us up some way, for we can’t get down nor crawl up.”
“Git a rope!” shouted Broswick, “an’ lower it down.”
“A rope! I don’t believe there’s one long enough within ten miles of here!” exclaimed Ned.