Ralph was rather disappointed. Had he had a gun he could easily have brought down one or more of the fowls. He considered it a most excellent chance lost—a chance that might not occur again that day.
Still it was not his place to pass any remark concerning the decision of his two passengers, so he remained silent, and plodded along over the rocks and through the brush, until, half an hour later, he came out on a grassy plateau overlooking a magnificent stretch of water.
"Here we are at the top of one end of the mountain," he said. "You can see a good many miles from here."
"That's so," said Martin. "What is below at the base of this cliff?"
"Rocks and water," returned Toglet, as he peered over. "It must be a hundred feet to the bottom."
"It is more than that," replied Ralph.
Martin and Toglet exchanged glances, and both nodded. This was as good a place as any for the accomplishment of their purpose.
"Hallo! what's that?" suddenly cried Martin, pointing across the lake.
Ralph looked in the direction, stepping close to the edge of the cliff as he did so.
"I don't see anything unusual——" he began.