CHAPTER VIII.
NATURE’S PRISONERS.
But despite the most painstaking investigation of the valley, a task which occupied them till almost sundown, the two oddly assorted prisoners were unable to find anything that promised a means of escape. They reached the spot where they had left the deer and flung themselves wearily down upon the ground, too disheartened and tired even to voice their disappointment.
“Gracious! Men imprisoned in a jail could not be more effectually shut in,” said Jack, at length; “I feel almost like dashing myself against these rock walls.”
His companion was compelled to admit that their situation did indeed seem a hard one. For some time they sat buried in thought. Jack’s mind was back in the camp of the Rangers. He wondered how his friends felt over his disappearance, and what steps were being taken to find him. How bitterly his heart ached to see his boy chums again he did not say for fear of breaking down.
“We must get out of this horrible place,” he cried, at length, “to–morrow as soon as it is light I mean to examine the cliffs and, if possible, to scale them.”
“You could not find a place that would afford a foothold,” objected his companion.
“I’ll try, at any rate. I’d rather almost be dashed to death than drag out a lingering existence in this valley,” burst out the boy.