“Of course I am,” replied the girl, surprised that he should even question her gameness.
“I knew you would be. We’re going to try it tomorrow. You had better make two packs of food.”
“Two packs? Don’t I carry anything?” asked the girl.
“Miss Carver,” said Ross gravely, “it’s a long way to civilization, and it is going to be a big tax on your strength to make it without carrying anything.”
“I’ll make it,” said Virginia Carver, as she turned away.
The following morning Ross was eager for the experiment, but it was nearly noon before a breeze came up strong enough to lift the kites.
Virginia Carver came out, clad in flannel shirt, whipcord breeches and high laced boots. It was a costume well suited to the work ahead, but it accentuated the girl’s slimness, made her appear almost frail. There was no frailty there, though. Rather was she supple with the suppleness of a braided cable, and the girl had the grace of a fine Toledo blade. Once again Stanley Ross became acutely aware that Virginia Carver had become an exceedingly important interest in his life.
Wong had instructed Ross in his scheme for escape. Ross saw at once that he had not intended to lift a rope heavy enough to hold a human being. Instead Wong had unearthed from one of the storehouses a very stout light line.
The plan was to lift the bight of the line with the two kites and drop it over a stunted pine growing out at an angle near the top of the north cliff. A heavier rope could then be attached to one end of this and drawn up and over the tree, making it possible to climb out.