He took a survey of the cliff, and then, going several hundred yards to the right, began the ascent. It was a tortuous winding, rocky way, and it was some time before he arrived, panting and somewhat exhausted, at the top.
Securing the rope firmly, he let it down.
“Is it long enough?” he called down.
“Plenty. Touches the ground. Hurrah!”
The trapper, lashing his rifle to his back, grasped the rope, and steadying himself, slid slowly to the ground, where he arrived considerably sooner than the stranger, and stood rubbing his nearly blistered hands when his deliverer appeared.
“All right!” he exclaimed, with a nod, and giving his suspenders a hitch, took a stride forward and extended his hand.
“Give us yer paw. Ye’ve got me out of a rather nice sitoation, an’ I’m corrasponden’ly grateful. What mought yer name be, stranger?”
“Wayne Kent,” responded the other; “what’s yours?”
“Nathan Rogers, more commonly called Wild Nat,” replied the trapper; “maybe ye’ve heard of me.”
“I have,” replied Kent, “and am glad to be able to offer you assistance. You look tired.”