Sam Barton's Harboring Place.
"I don't like that way of getting over," said Tom, looking down at the rocks beneath him; "that rope might break."
"I'll risk that," was the reply. "It's strong enough to hold half a dozen fellers like us, an' it is made fast up there to a tree as big around as your body. Ketch it, Muley, an' come on."
The governor let go the rope, which swung back to Tom's side of the chasm, and the latter, with a good deal of trembling and hesitation, prepared to take his turn. He made two or three false starts—stepping back for a short run, as he had seen the governor do, and then suddenly stopping when he reached the brink of the chasm, and thought what would become of him if the rope should break loose from the tree above; but his fear of being laughed at was stronger than his dread of the rocks, and finally he drew in a long breath, and launched himself into the air. Somewhat to his astonishment, he accomplished the feat very easily; and when he found himself safe on the opposite side, he straightened up and looked at the governor as if he had done something wonderful.
Sam fastened the rope to a bush, and once more led the way up the path, which grew steeper and more difficult the nearer they approached the summit. In some places the cliff was quite perpendicular, and the only way they could advance at all was by drawing themselves up by the bushes that grew out of the crevices of the rocks. They reached the top at last, however, and then Sam stopped, and, pointing through the leaves, showed Tom several men at work in a field, and a farm-house in the distance.
"I hooks them fellers' water-melons," observed the governor.
"What if they should discover us now, and come after us?" said Tom.