At this moment the Kachin whom Jack had felled with the bar began to move. Jack was upon him in a moment, whipping off his girdle, and tying him hand and foot with stout strips of it. Mr. Haydon now began to talk with the native woman. As a rule he had preferred to speak with her through Me Dain, for her dialect contained many words unfamiliar to him. But now Me Dain, their stout-hearted, faithful guide, was gone, and it seemed as if no great interval could elapse before their fate, too, would be settled.
The woman had brought a small store of food with her. She ate, and offered some to her companions. But they would not touch it, though hunger was gnawing keenly at them.
Mr. Haydon sat down with his back against the cliff, but Jack could not keep still. He moved restlessly to and fro on their narrow patch, and glanced into the depths on every side. Was there nothing to be done? Must they wait idly here until their enemies were strong enough to rush them in overwhelming force?
Jack had gone to the farthest point of their refuge, and was lying at full length with his head over the edge of the last beam. He was staring into the wild foaming torrent, when an inequality in the face of the descending cliff caught his eye. He looked intently, and saw that some fifteen feet above the river a narrow ledge ran horizontally along the cliff. He followed the ledge with his eye. It ran down towards the river, narrowed, and disappeared. He raised his head and called his father. Mr. Haydon was by his side in a moment. Jack pointed out the ledge.
"If we could drop on to that," he said, "we might get away up the pass after all."
"I'm afraid there's not much of a chance there," returned his father. "The ledge shelves away to the river. But in any case, how are we going to descend a precipice as smooth as glass? It's a good five-and-thirty feet down to that point."
Jack bit his lip in perplexity for a moment. Then his brow cleared, as a sudden idea slipped into his mind.
"We'll make a rope," he said. "There's stout stuff in these fellows' kilts and jackets," and he pointed to the Kachins lying near at hand.
Mr. Haydon slapped his son on the shoulder. "Good for you, Jack, my boy!" he cried. "We'll have a try at it."
He spoke a few words to the native woman, and she laid her child down and sprang at once to help. She proved by far the deftest and cleverest of the three at the task now to be performed. Jack and his father quickly stripped off belt, jacket, girdle, and turban from the fallen Kachins, and their clothes were tossed over to the woman. With a small, sharp knife which she produced from the little basket in which she had carried her food, she swiftly cut up kilts and jackets, while the other two knotted together turbans and girdles. Half an hour's hard work saw the heap of clothing converted into a stout, well-knotted rope. Jack took a glance at the men on guard. They were still seated at the end of the shelf-road, smoking calmly, and confident that their prey could not escape them. Jack now tied a heavy stone at the end of the rope and let it down. The stone slid along the face of the precipice and rested on the ledge. Nine or ten feet of their rope were still unpaid out.