"Very well—all I want is to get a good look at them. Lead the way, if you'd rather."
Duplin knew the futility of reasoning with Jack, else he would not have been drawn into the foolhardy adventure so easily. He knew there was danger, Tyrrel did not. But alone, Jack would be sure to precipitate this, and hoping to avoid discovery by due caution, Duplin led the way toward the cliff, having determined the exact position where the light had been shown.
Evidently the cliff-lodgers had disappeared at the same time the light did, else they must have discovered the three dark figures as they glided across the open, level valley, plainly outlined by the moon's rays.
Reaching the foot of the cliff, they began searching for the path by which the wild-man must have ascended, but for several minutes without success. Then, however, a low whistle from Burr Wythe called Duplin and Tyrrel to his side. Even in that gloom, they could see that the path bore evident traces of having been frequently used, either by bipeds or quadrupeds.
"I think this is folly, boys," muttered Duplin.
"Folly or not—up I go," determinedly added Jack.
"Then I claim the right to lead the way," and so speaking, Paley Duplin cautiously began the difficult ascent, having first carefully deposited his rifle at the base of the hill; an example that was promptly imitated by his companions.
The trail was comparatively easy of ascent, but the gold-hunters made slow progress, as Duplin carefully examined each foot of the way, lest he should be misled by the numerous other clefts and seeming paths that thickly crossed the trace. Thus he neared the point from whence he felt sure the light had been shown, and as yet no signs had been given by those above that their approach had been observed.
Suddenly Duplin paused, and turning his head, upheld his finger in warning. Then stooping, he whispered to Wythe, who stood just below him:
"Careful, now! I just caught a glimpse of the light. We're close to the spot. Caution Tyrrel. One rash move now may be fatal."