“I sure wish Hap would get here,” Jack declared, casting an uneasy glance back toward the darkening crags. “No chance for a few hours.”
“Pedro’s safe enough on the ledge, but we’ve got to get down to him. You’ll have to lower me on the rope.”
“Getting back won’t be so easy.”
“We’ll worry about that later. It’s no good trying to make camp on this side of the stream. Too exposed. If an attack should come, we’d have no protection whatsoever.”
“We’ve lost most of our supplies,” Jack said grimly. “This finishes us, even if Pedro isn’t in a bad way.”
The fading sunlight, splashing on the great rocks, transformed them into glowing fire. But the two Scouts had no thought for the splendor of the scenery.
Working feverishly against darkness, Jack managed to lower Ken to the rock shelf above the stream. He provided first aid, and made a crude splint for Pedro’s leg which had a cracked bone.
Then Ken called excitedly that he could see a balsa raft made of logs, hidden in a clump of bushes close by.
“If I can get Pedro onto the balsa, we can ferry downstream where we can make camp,” he called up to Jack. “It’s our best bet.”
“Okay,” Jack agreed after considering the proposal. “I’ll lower the duffle bags, and then try to get down there without breaking my neck.”