He took the buckskin bag of emeralds and restored it to his pocket.
“I think I’d like to see how that fire is doing,” he said, rising to his feet. He began to climb the rope, and was soon at the top.
There was still a good deal of fire in the woods beyond, where some trees were burning, but close by the rocky point there was hardly any blaze now, and the noose of the rope had been untouched.
He leaned over and looked down at the girl.
“It’s cool enough for one to stand it up here now,” he called to her. “If you’d like to come up, make a noose and put it under your arms.”
She made and adjusted the noose, and the strong arms of the scout soon drew her to the top of the precipitous wall.
“Not very pleasant up here even yet,” he said, “but better than down there; and we have the comforting assurance that we’re out of the cañon, and that the rope was equal to the strain.”
“If we keep close to the cañon’s edge, perhaps we can get beyond the fire now,” she suggested. “You have a horse, you said.”
“If the poor fellow hasn’t been roasted. I’m a bit afraid the fire reached him.”
They set out along the edge of the precipice, Buffalo Bill taking the rope.