The experiment proved delightfully successful. Dick Hamilton was preparing to fire a third series, when they were thrilled by a shout:
“Hello, down there! What the blazes is the matter?”
The hail came from a point behind them. On the edge of the gorge and close to where the brothers had fallen one after the other, stood a middle-aged man in rough clothing and a slouch hat, carrying a rifle. His face was smooth-shaven, and the expression kindly.
“Look out!” Harvey shouted, “or you’ll fall into the gorge.”
“I reckon I ain’t fool enough to do that,” was his grinning reply; “is that the way you managed it?”
“That’s what we did,” said Dick; “be good enough not to laugh too hard, for we feel bad enough as it is, without your rubbing it in.”
“You do seem to be in a fix, but we can soon get you out.”
“You have no surer way of earning our undying gratitude,” said Dick.
“Wait where you be till I come back.”
“There’s no fear of not waiting, but please don’t forget to return.”