But this was easier said than done, for they found after they had gone a short distance that the rocks sloped down to the very edge of the precipice like one side of the roof of a house, about fifteen feet in width. Leaving his rifle behind, Dan slowly made his way along the narrow ledge, holding on carefully to the wall towering above. A sharp point jutting out partly barred his progress and as he attempted to go around this his foot lost its hold, and he found himself slipping down the sloping rock, which had been worn smooth by wind and rain. With a cry of terror he clutched frantically for something upon which to fasten his fingers. But not an object could be found. Down and down he moved, and when it seemed as if in another instant he must be hurled to immediate death his hand touched a jagged fissure in the surface. How his tense fingers did dig into the friendly crevice as he hung over that awful place. Below yawned the gulf; above stretched the merciless rock.
So quickly had all this taken place that Grey had hardly time to think, much less to act. A numbing horror overspread his whole body as he watched his companion moving down to apparent destruction. But when he saw him gripping so desperately to the rent in the rock he quickly roused to action. He looked about for something to stretch out to his helpless partner. But not a branch or sapling could he behold—nothing that would serve his purpose. He looked far down into the valley; he might get something there. But it would take considerable time to go and return, and in the meantime what would happen to Dan!
"How long can you hold on?" he called.
"'Bout a minute," came the weak reply. "Me fingers are 'most broke. Fer God's sake do somethin', an' do it quick!"
Then Grey acted. He tore off the buckskin jacket he was wearing, which Dan had loaned him, and gave it a most vigorous pull to test its endurance. Next he unbuckled the cartridge belt which encircled his waist. Tying one end of this to a sleeve of the jacket he fastened the other end securely about his ankle. Finding a suitable stone lying near, with some difficulty he made it fast to the second sleeve of the jacket. This accomplished he stretched himself carefully down the rocky incline, and holding on firmly with one hand to the point of a jagged flinty rift, with the other he let out his improvised rope of salvation. The weight of the stone bore it steadily toward the clinging trapper. Would it reach? And if so would it be strong enough? Dan saw it coming, and a gleam of hope came into his faded eyes. But alas! it was still too far away.
"Let her out some more," he shouted. "I can't tech it yit."
Then Grey stretched himself out full length, and with both hands gripped the rock above. It was all that was needed. Dan's tired fingers closed eagerly upon the sleeve of the jacket. He tested its strength ere letting go of his old precarious support. Finding that it held firm he committed himself to its keeping, and slowly and painfully made his way foot by foot up from that dizzy, frowning ledge. Neither Grey nor Dan spoke. The silence was intense. Would the connecting link hold? Would it bear the strain to the end? Grey could feel the weight attached to his leg, but could not see how his comrade was progressing. He half expected at any instant to hear the jacket or belt give way. The perspiration stood in great beads upon his forehead, and he almost held his breath in the intenseness of the moment. But when he felt Dan's hand laid with a mighty grip upon his other leg, and knew that the old man was scrambling quickly up by the side of his body to a place of safety, a great sigh of relief escaped his lips. It did not take him long to draw himself up from his own perilous position after the weight had been removed.
"God bless ye, pardner!" Dan cried, reaching out a large horny hand. "How kin I ever thank ye fer wot ye've done fer me to-day?"
Grey silently grasped the extended member. Words would not come. His heart was too full for utterance.