"Got what?" cried Harry, as if he feared his brother had suddenly become infected with some strange complaint—"rabies or the pip?"
"The noise—I mean I know where it comes from," cried the excited boy.
"Where?" chorused Ben and Harry.
"From somewhere about the Upturned Face," cried Frank triumphantly, "Hark!"
The strange wailing cry rang out once more. They all listened intently.
Sure enough it seemed to proceed from the sinister countenance carved in the living rock above them.
"Well, here's where we end this mystery for all time," shouted Frank, drawing his revolver, "who is game to follow me?"
Of course Harry and Ben rushed to his side, and while the echo of the mysterious cry was still sobbing and sighing among the crags they dashed back up the mountain-side utterly oblivious now to the heat or anything but their determination to discover who or what had uttered the extraordinary cry. The side of the nose—or the nostril so to speak—was formed of a wall of rock fully twelve feet in height.
"You fellows give me a boost up there and I'll travel right along the face till I find out where the racket comes from."
On Ben's strong shoulders Frank was soon hoisted up to a height where he could lay hold of a projecting bit of rock and shin himself up on to the top of the nose.