But a careful scrutiny failed to show any indications of such a device as he was looking for. The walls were bare and clean as cliffs of marble. Not more than two or three stunted conifers grew out of an occasional crevice. The enclosing walls would not have afforded footing to a fly.
“Guess I was wrong,” thought Rob to himself and lying back on the sand he closed his eyes the better to concentrate his thoughts. But what with the strain of the early hours and the warm, sultry atmosphere, the lad found his ideas wandering. Presently, without knowing it, he had dropped off into a sound slumber.
When he awoke it was with a start. The long shadows showed him that the day was far spent. All at once voices near at hand struck in upon his half awakened senses.
Rob heard a few words and then, with wildly beating pulses, he fell to simulating sleep with all his might. From what he had heard of the conversation he believed that a hope of escape lay in the words of the talkers.
CHAPTER XIV.
A THRILLING ESCAPE.
It was Peter Bumpus and Jim Dale who were talking. From their first words Rob gathered that Stonington Hunt and his son had gone fishing, and that Jumbo, like himself, was asleep.
“You’re sure that kid is off good and sound, too?” asked Dale.
“Soon find out,” rejoined Bumpus.
Rob felt the man bend over him, his hot breath fanning his ear. It was a hard job not to open his eyes, but Rob came through with flying colors.
“He’s sound as a top,” decided Pete, “and old Hunt and the kid won’t be back for half an hour anyway. Now’s our time to see if the old rope ladder is still there.”