"Nary a thing. Blacker'n an Alabamy coon down there. And about as slippery along the trail," he added.
"How we going to work it, Cap'n?" asked Comanche as the outlaws, with Wild Bill in the lead, began their perilous climb over the side of the mountain, a single misstep in which would precipitate them to the rocks more than a hundred feet below.
"We will see when we get there. Be careful there Harry. Do you want to pull the whole bunch of us down? Your feet are as clumsy as an elephant's."
At last the hardy outlaws stood upon the shelving rock peering down curiously into the dark abyss below them. It was not an inviting outlook, but Frank was determined to learn who or what it was down there in the tree top. After looking over the ground with a critical eye, he told the men to braid their lariats into one single rope. This done he tested its length by letting it down over the edge of the cliff. It reached the tree as nearly as he could make out, then he made an end fast around a projecting arm of rock on the ledge where they were standing.
"Well," he demanded, "who is going down? I am not going to ask any of you to take the risk. I would do it myself only I am afraid I shouldn't be much good with my game leg."
"Let me take a chance at this game, Captain," urged Comanche Tony.
"No, you're too heavy," objected Frank.
"I'll try it," said Texas.
"Very well, you will do."
They bound the rope tightly about his waist. All hands took strong hold of it and Texas sitting down on the edge of the cliff, boldly slipped off into space.