“Why, that fight when the Indians climbed up these steps, with the other people raining down big stones on their heads.”
“Think it was so?” said Wilton quietly.
“I feel sure of it. My word! Never mind about them being horribly savage—how brave they must have been! Why, I felt regularly shaky at having to get up yonder with no enemy to face.”
“Yes, it’s an ugly place,” said Wilton; “but what about enemies down below? Can you see anything?”
“No,” said Chris, gazing down. “It’s as black as black. I say, though, if there are any enemies down there they’re poisonous.”
“What do you think possibly can be down there—one of the fierce cats of the country?”
“No,” said Chris, smiling queerly. “Rattlers.”
“Ugh!”
“If there are any we shall see them when the lanthorn’s swung down. Why, it will be a good bit of sport for you to have a shot at them.”
“The horrible beasts!” said Wilton.