"Here, Sol Flatbush, you are the best shot of us all. See if you can't bring him down. But don't shoot him. I need him for other things. Shoot the rope in two."
This was easier said than done, for the rope was so high that it was almost out of the light cast by the fires.
Flatbush was, indeed, a splendid shot, and he fired twice at the rope with his revolver, but missed each time on account of the uncertain light and the swaying motion of the rope.
"Give me my rifle," he called, and one of the men fetched it for him.
Ted was within fifteen feet of the top when Flatbush, leaning against the opposite wall, took deliberate aim and fired.
At the second shot Ted, who was aware that some one was trying to cut the rope, felt it vibrate suddenly beneath his hand.
Before the last thread was severed he reached up and began to climb, hand over hand. In a few seconds he was at the top, and the boys were helping him over the edge.
For a moment or two he could say nothing; he could only listen to the yells of rage and disappointment below. Now he was surrounded by his friends, and Stella was free. Away on a mountain peak a light flared up.
"What does that mean?" asked Stella, pointing to it.
"It is the signal that the Indians have gone on the warpath," said Ted. "The sergeant was right. It is up to us now to do stunts."