"Where in the world are you, pard?" burst out Jerry.
"Oh, here," came the reply.
"Ginger! I believe he's down the bank!" cried Bluff.
"Just what he is! Come here, fellows! Did you ever see anything to beat that? Talk to me about your lucky dogs! Here's one that takes the cake every time!" sang out Jerry, as he thrust his head out beyond the edge of the platform where the slope began.
"Oh, I don't know. There have been cases where people have been saved from all sorts of disasters by the fortunate presence of a rope. Chuck us a loop, Reddy, will you, please?" said Will, and Jerry became as dumb as an oyster.
No wonder Frank laughed, even while he watched the cowboy dropping his lariat down as the other so coolly requested. Will had slid some twenty feet down the steep bank, along with the loose surface stuff, which gathered force as it
proceeded. Then a projecting stone had caught the bag of his coat, and he was supported in this fashion by the stout fabric.
"What are you trying to do down there? Expect to cut me out of my job as the cliff climber of the party?" asked Frank jokingly.
"Not so that you'd notice. Thought I might get a better view down along here. But first of all, save my precious camera, before I consent to come up," answered Will, and he insisted upon fastening the same to the dangling rope.
Bluff saw his chance to get back at his chum for more than one indignity along the same line that he had suffered in the past, so he called out: