The boys went a few yards farther, and then both leaped to a rock that seemed to be secure, but which was not. Under their combined weight it tilted unexpectedly, and they suddenly found themselves sliding they knew not to where.
“Grab hold!” yelled Jack, and did what he could to stop his progress, and Randy did likewise.
Down they went over one slippery rock after another, bringing up at last in a sort of pocket on the side of a cliff. Here they stood panting for breath and rubbing their shins and their elbows, which had been sadly scraped in the descent.
“Great Cæsar! I thought we were going down to kingdom come,” gasped Randy.
“Now we are in a pickle!” returned the young major. “How ever are we going to get out of this place?”
Jack began to look around, wondering what their next move might be. An instant later he let out an exclamation of astonishment.
“What is it, Jack?” queried his cousin, as he saw the young major pointing his finger and counting slowly to himself.
“Look there, Randy! Am I right, or am I only dreaming? Do you see these sharp-pointed rocks all around us? Well, just count them, will you?”
Catching what was in Jack’s mind, Randy began to count the huge circle of sharp-pointed rocks.