“It looks like a sled,” said he, dropping his hand, “but how it got thar’ would puzzle even a redskin to tell, for there’s no track up to that ledge.”
“It is a sled,” said Black Swan, curtly.
“An’ how came it there?” asked Robin.
“It fell from the top,” replied the Indian.
“Right, lad, yer right!” said Slugs, who had taken another long look at the object in question; “I see somethin’ like a broken tree near the top o’ the precipice. I hope Wapaw hain’t gone an’ tumbled over that cliff.”
This supposition was received in silence and with grave looks, for all felt that the thing was not impossible, but the Indian shook his head.
“Come, Black Swan,” said Walter, “you don’t agree with us—what think ye?”
“Wapaw had no sled with him,” replied the Indian.
“Right again!” cried Slugs; “I do believe my sense is forsakin’ me; an Injun baby might have thought of that, for his tracks are plain enough. Hows’ever, let’s go see, for it’s o’ no use standin’ here guessin’.”
The party at once advanced to the foot of the precipice, and for nearly an hour they did their utmost to ascend to the ledge on which the sledge lay, but their efforts were in vain. The rock was everywhere too steep and smooth to afford foot-hold.