“Sure Mike I will, if you do. Pitch out and find your ferry, or your ford, or whatever it is that you’re going to cross the river on.”
The crossing of the fierce little river presented somewhat of a problem. One glance at the torrent slashing itself into spindrift among the boulders was enough to convince even the tenderest of tenderfoots that wading the stream was out of the question.
“I’ve got it,” said Larry. “We’ll hike back up-stream to where we saw those big stones lying in the river. We can make three bites of it there.”
It was a rough and rugged quarter of a mile up-canyon to the place of the big stones. Two great boulders, each large enough to fill an ordinary sitting-room and figuring as prehistoric shatterings from the cliffs above, lay in an irregular triangle in the stream bed. The leaps from one to another of these over the split-up torrent were a bit unnerving to contemplate and Dick shook his head.
“You’re long-legged enough to do it, Larry, but I’m afraid I can’t,” he said. “If we could make a bridge of some kind——”
Larry was willing enough to go on the exploring expedition alone, but he was unwilling to leave Dick behind for a mere physical obstacle. Releasing the small stake-ax that he carried in his belt, he hacked down a little pine-tree standing near and trimmed the branches. “It won’t be much better than a tight-rope,” he grinned, “but we’re neither of us very high-shy.”
Handling it together, they heaved the trimmed pine across to the first boulder and Larry tested it.
“Safe as a clock,” he announced. “Come on.”
Dick balanced himself across, and then they pulled the tree over and bridged the second chasm with it. This crossing made, the third proved to be nothing more than an easy jump to the northern stream bank, and a few minutes later they had covered the down-stream distance to the gulch mouth and were entering the pocket.