But he could not help congratulating himself upon his escape from what might have been an awful death.
“Shure it’s down into the cinter av the berg I’ve fell,” he muttered. “Phwereiver is Misther Frank, anyway?”
Then he opened his lungs.
Yell after yell he sent up.
But only the dull echoes answered.
Frank was too far distant for the sound to reach him.
After a time Barney desisted.
It was impossible to return the way that he came.
This he discovered quickly.
But what was to be done?