"Quick!" cried Poeskop, in a hoarse whisper. "We must run!"
They were quickly over the litter of rocks, and running down the gorge as fast as the semi-darkness would permit. The camp was astir; voices were heard calling to one another; they could even make out Karl Engelbrecht's deep tones shouting commands.
"Run, Baas Guy!" urged Poeskop, turning to his follower. "If Karl catches us we are dead men."
They ran yet faster. They had a good start, and in fifteen minutes had reached the mouth of the gorge. Here, in a snug corner among some bush, Poeskop had fastened up his horse. It was a risk. If a lion or a leopard had come that way, the Bushman's plans might have been easily overthrown. But the good nag was safe. Unfastening it in an instant, Poeskop led it out into the open.
"Now, Baas Guy," he said, "jump up. I hear them following us. We have no time to waste."
Guy needed no persuasion. He, too, had heard the voices of their pursuers; they could now even discern the beat of their footsteps. He sprang up. Poeskop leaped lightly behind him.
"Ride for the light yonder," he whispered, pointing to a brilliant star right in front of them, low down towards the horizon. A kick from Poeskop's bare heels, and away they went, the pony cantering along sturdily in the semi-darkness, despite the burden of a double load.
"We shall be all right now," said Poeskop. "It will take them half an hour or more to pull down those boulders and make a passage for a horse; but we must push on. Karl Engelbrecht and the Portuguee will certainly ride after us, perhaps also some of their men. They will have blood for the Griqua-if they can. And here comes daylight; we have no time to spare."
Guy looked towards the east, which lay nearly in front of them. It was true. Already the sky was paling. Dawn would be upon them in less than half an hour.
"Poeskop," he said, without turning in the saddle, "did you kill the Griqua?"
"Ja, baas, I did," replied the Bushman. "It was his life or mine. As I crept past him he stirred. I had my hand on his mouth. He struggled, and there was nothing for it but the knife."
"I'm sorry, very sorry," said Guy seriously. "You ought not to have done it. I hate the idea of killing a man like that. I wish now you hadn't come after me!"
"Well, baas, it was, as I say, my life or his. If Engelbrecht had caught me in his camp trying to rescue you, I was a dead man. And you yourself-if it suited his plans best, he would have put a bullet through you as soon as looked at you. Besides, Thebus was my enemy. Many a time he has sjamboked me, and drawn blood, when I was in Karl Engelbrecht's service. He treated me as badly as Karl himself did. I always said I would be even with him, and now I am. Pas op!" he cried, as the horse stumbled in a meerkat hole.
The poor beast floundered, tried to save itself, but came down on its head, bringing both riders to the ground. They were up in an instant, and, getting the pony to its feet again, remounted.
But, alas! it quickly became apparent that the pony had in some way injured its shoulder in the fall. It went very lame; and the lameness, as they rode on, increased instead of wearing off. Daylight was now rapidly overtaking them. The eastern sky was becoming suffused with wondrous hues of gold and crimson and pale green; long shafts of rosy pink were scattered upwards towards the zenith.
Poeskop turned and looked behind him.
"Baas," he said, "this is a bad job. They will all be coming after us soon on their horses, and then, with this lame pony, we are done for, unless we can lie up somewhere and defend ourselves. I don't like it."
"How far away are we from Mr. Blakeney and Baas Tom?" asked Guy.
"About an hour and a half's ordinary riding," replied the Bushman; "less than an hour if we could gallop hard. We must get off, and run alongside."
They slipped off the pony. Poeskop, who had his own carbine slung at his back, handed Guy a rifle and bandolier.
"Why, these are mine!" exclaimed Guy. "How did you get them?"
"I found them by the Griqua," responded the Bushman, "and so brought them away with me. Now, baas, hartloup!"
Guy took hold of the pony by the bridle, and they trotted along on either side at a good pace. For a little while the pony, relieved of its burden, seemed to move more freely. The improvement was but a fleeting one, however; the lameness grew worse. It became evident to the two runners that their pace was rapidly decreasing.
"This will never do," said Guy, looking with dismay at Poeskop. "What's to be done?"
"The pony is dead beat, baas," rejoined the Bushman. "We must just leave him to take his chance, and push on. I'll take the water-bottle, and we must run."
So speaking, and taking the water-bottle, they pressed on. They had now come some three miles from the mouth of the kloof where Poeskop had first left the pony. Another nine or ten miles lay between them and the woodland where Mr. Blakeney and Tom lay waiting the result of Poeskop's expedition of discovery. Guy was a first-rate runner, and had the pace of the Bushman. Poeskop, on the other hand, could go at a steady jog trot during the whole of a long day, and had often compassed fifty miles in a journey of ten or twelve hours. They were encumbered with their rifles and ammunition, and Poeskop carried the water-bottle, all of which tended, of course, to increase their difficulties.
As they trotted across the open plain Poeskop looked behind him.
"They're not coming yet," he said. "We must make the most of our start."
Away they went, running steadily at a pace of rather better than seven miles an hour, which, under all the circumstances, and seeing that they were moving through longish grass, was excellent going. For a couple of miles they kept this up.
"Baas," said Poeskop presently, looking at Guy with a strange, comical expression on his yellow, pinched face, "your legs are too long for me. I can hardly keep up with you."
"All right," said Guy cheerfully; "I'll slacken off a bit."
But at that moment Poeskop looked round over his shoulder towards the entrance to the gorge.
"They're coming!" he cried. "I shall run your pace after all. Now we must go till we drop. If I were only a hartebeest and you a springbok! Run, baas, run!"
Guy glanced back, and saw four mounted figures just emerging from the dark gorge on to the yellow plain. Broad daylight was upon the veldt. It was evident that their pursuers must have already sighted them. The situation was becoming serious indeed. They ran stoutly on, saying not a word, and directing their course for a clump of bush and low timber which, with two or three other similar patches, rose like islets upon the sea of plain.
But their pursuers were now galloping hard, and were getting over the ground just twice as fast as the two footmen toiling along in front of them. Already the hoof-strokes of the galloping horses could be distinguished by the two runners.
"Baas," gasped Poeskop, "we shall just reach the timber, and that's all. We shall want three minutes to get breath and steady ourselves."
Well and stoutly as they ran, it seemed as if the last three hundred yards that separated them from the islet of bush never would be accomplished. The haven was reached at last, and the two fugitives plunging in, sank down behind a couple of trees having a low screen of bush in front of them, and prepared for action.
The nearest of their pursuers, Karl Engelbrecht, was now but three hundred yards away. A hundred yards behind him galloped a native servant; then followed Minho, the Portuguese, and another mounted native. Engelbrecht drew rein, jumped from his horse, and taking quick aim, fired at the two runners just as they took shelter behind the trees. The bullet whistled idly by. The Boer waited till his comrades came up, and then, spreading out a few yards apart, they advanced at a walk upon the islet, their plan evidently being to envelop it. By the time they had approached within two hundred yards, the fugitives had recovered breath, and were prepared for them.
"Baas," whispered Poeskop, a fierce light gleaming in his set face, "you are the best shot. Fire first. Take plenty time."
Guy nodded. They were lying down; and resting his elbows on the ground and putting up his Martini rifle, he aimed at the big figure of the Boer, who, now mounted again, was advancing upon the patch of covert. Two hundred and fifty yards was the distance. The ivory rifle-sight was upon the Boer's body, Guy's finger upon the trigger. Should he fire? No, the lad thought; he would not spill the man's blood if he could help it. He lowered the rifle, and, taking aim at Engelbrecht's horse, pulled. It was a long shot, but a pretty good target. The result was, perhaps, most unexpected to Karl Engelbrecht himself, who had scarcely anticipated much resistance. At the loud report of the Martini, his horse fell instantly to the ground. In the next minute the poor beast was choking in its death struggle. Karl stumbled to his feet with a big Dutch oath, dropped in the grass, and, taking aim for the place whence the shot had been fired, let drive. It was a good shot; so good that the Westley-Richards .450 sporting bullet hit the tree behind which Guy crouched, striking it a terrific smack, within six inches of the lad's face.
Guy shifted his position and prepared for another shot. Meanwhile, Poeskop had got the Boer within range, and had let drive three successive shots in such close proximity to Engelbrecht's carcass that that worthy had deemed it wise to beat a hasty retreat. Worming himself through the grass, therefore, Engelbrecht crawled back a hundred paces or more, where he was joined by Antonio Minho, who, from that comparatively long range, now fired a shot or two at the patch of bush in front of them.
Meanwhile, one of the natives was riding round to the left, evidently with the object of getting a flanking shot into the defenders' position. Guy had no intention of being thus outflanked. He realized that his opponents meant business, and that this was no time for leniency, or any half-hearted measures. The mounted native came round within less than two hundred yards. As he turned and pulled up his horse, in order to fire from the saddle, Guy got a fair bead on him, and, pulling trigger, sent a bullet into the man's shoulder. The native staggered in his saddle, dropped his rifle with a loud yell, and, sorely wounded, lay forward upon the neck of his horse and rode off. Circling away from the dangerous proximity of the islet, the man rejoined his master, and fell fainting to the soil. Poeskop was delighted with the success of the defence thus far. The group of assailants was now some three hundred and fifty yards away, but a well-judged bullet from the Bushman's rifle struck the wounded native's horse, and completed the discomfiture of the party. Karl Engelbrecht, cursing the young Englishman and his assistant, and swearing horrible vengeance at some future time, now deemed it well to retreat. A dead and wounded horse, and a badly injured native, was sufficient punishment for him. Tying up his man's wound, and putting him upon the spare horse, the Boer and his party now drew sullenly off, their retreat hastened by the figures of two horsemen which they descried far off upon the plain behind Guy and Poeskop. On the way back to their mountain retreat, Minho rode a little off the route to secure the Englishman's unfortunate horse, which was now grazing on the veldt. Finding that the poor beast was too lame to travel, he shot it dead. This brutal act was witnessed by Poeskop from a tree into which he had climbed.
"Poor Blesbok," said Guy, at the intelligence. "I'll do my best to make things level with the brutes. I'm sorry now I didn't shoot Engelbrecht instead of his horse. I had a fair chance, and let it go. As for that Portuguese cur, I'll be even with him, somehow or other."
"My baas," returned Poeskop, grinning in high contentment, "if you'll take my advice, you'll never give Karl Engelbrecht another chance in this world. You might as well offer a good joint of meat to a stinking hyæna. If you don't watch it and kill Karl, he'll kill you. I know him. He'll never rest till he has another slap at us. Never mind; we've bested him this time, and we'll best him again… Hurrah! here come Baas Blakeney and Baas Tom. They'll be pleased, anyway."
Guy and the Bushman stepped out of the covert which had proved so timely a refuge for them, and, waving their rifles, drew the attention of the two horsemen, who were now cantering towards them. In twenty minutes they were together once more.
Chapter XV.
THE KLOOF
The mutual congratulations that ensued were very real and heartfelt.
"My dear Guy," said his uncle, as he threw himself from his horse and wrung his nephew's hand, "I can't tell you how glad I am to see you safe and sound. I have imagined all sorts of dangers from your captivity. Now tell us what has happened."
Guy related as shortly as possible all his adventures since he had left their camp. Then Poeskop told of his doings, and how he had managed the rescue.
"Well, you have both done excellently well," said Mr. Blakeney. "It's a clever feat to have outwitted these scoundrels, and beaten them off as you have done. We heard your firing as we waited at the edge of the forest yonder, and galloped this way. But you had really finished the fight, and well beaten Engelbrecht, before we could take a hand. I congratulate you, Guy. Here comes in the advantage of an athletic training and early practice in rifle-shooting. An old veldt man could not have done better. The question now is, What are these rascals likely to be up to? I don't think Engelbrecht, after this mauling, will be very keen to attack us again. And in our own camp, and with all our own men about us, we should have no trouble in repelling him. Still, we must keep a sharp lookout."
Poeskop, questioned as to his idea of the Boer's future movements, was of opinion that Engelbrecht would never think of attacking them with his present force. He might go off and try to raise more men. But that would take time; and in the meanwhile they would be at the Gold Kloof, and could make more ample preparations against further assaults. On the whole, the Bushman was of opinion that Engelbrecht would certainly try to take his revenge; but he inclined to the belief that it would probably be more in the way of an ambush on the coastward trek. This could be guarded against by careful scouting.
They returned to their own camp, where Jan Kokerboom and the other men welcomed them with great delight. Guy's first action on getting back was to do something to show his gratitude to Poeskop for his clever and courageous rescue. He knew that the little Bushman had always immensely admired a Marlin repeating carbine which he (Guy) sometimes used. Taking this out of the wagon, he now handed it to his follower.
"Here, Poeskop," he said; "here's a little present for you. You did me a real good turn, and I shall never forget it. You are a good fellow, and when we come to the town again I hope to do something more for you. I was in a very tight place when you crept into Karl Engelbrecht's camp and got me out of it."
Poeskop duly returned thanks, and the incident ended. But the real feeling of friendship between the young Englishman and the half-wild Bushman was yet further cemented by the events of these few days.
They trekked once more, and after steady travelling for some days further, through a wild and remote wilderness, came at length to that goal of their desires, the Gold Kloof. One magnificent evening they outspanned under the shadow of a great mass of towering mountain, the highest peak of which must have been full seven thousand feet high. Within this range lay their secret. As the white men looked up at the peaked and serrated crests of the berg before them-now glowing with crimson and rose under the magic of the African sunset-they could not help being sensible of the spell of mystery and expectation cast over them by the witchery of that wonderful hour and the sight of this magnificent mountain land, which had lain here during ages of the past, remote and unknown, hugging within its solitudes the wealth that all civilized men covet so greatly. The fires of evening passed, and the mountains sank into more sober colouring. Puces and mauves and brown, contrasted in the deeper shadows with cobalt and indigo, were succeeded by yet darker and more sombre hues. Finally night sank, and only the faint looming of the great berg could be perceived. A thin silver crescent of a moon swam in the palest green sky; the stars pricked forth in amazing brilliancy; and the whole firmament became arrayed in its night robe of the deepest and most velvety blue-black.
They spent a most cheery evening by the camp fire, and turned in to sleep with all sorts of anticipations for the morrow.
After breakfast the next morning they advanced, under the guidance of Poeskop, into the heart of the mountain. Trekking through a wide and well-timbered valley, bordered on either side by towering and majestic walls, they entered suddenly-after the dry country through which they had for six weeks been travelling-upon what seemed to the two lads a perfect fairyland. Rain had lately fallen, and nature, responding in her eager way to the welcome moisture, had awakened, as by the spell of a magician's wand, into a most wonderful and verdurous beauty. The grass grew green in the valley, the trees were arrayed in new and brilliant foliage, the flowers everywhere checkered the veldt and shed splendour upon the hillsides. Acres of lilies-white, pink and white, crimson, and pale blue-starred the earth; while irises, gladioli, pelargoniums, heliophilas, and many other flowers, flourished in wild luxuriance. The round, plushlike, yellow and orange balls of the acacia trees spread abroad upon the soft breeze a most delicious, honey-like scent. Up the mountain sides various heaths, now in the full beauty of their flowering, brilliantly relieved the dark greens and red browns of bush and rock. Huge aloes stood sentinel upon the kloofsides, and held aloft immense spikes of dark crimson flowers. Amid all this wealth of flower life, innumerable birds of gay and brilliant plumage, now on their way south with the rains, flew hither and thither. Here were to be noticed especially those lovely feathered creatures, the emerald, the golden, and Klaas's cuckoos, whose glorious colouring is among the chief marvels of South African bird life. Gorgeous sunbirds dipped their long tongues into the sugary hearts of the blossoms scattered so plentifully around; and resplendent kingfishers of divers hues sped in arrowy flight up and down the clear stream that murmured through the centre of the valley. Far aloft, wheeling and circling above the tall mountain peak which dominated the range, numbers of vultures were to be seen, cleaving the clear air of morning with wonderfully majestic flight.
"Hullo, Poeskop!" said Tom; "aasvogels?"
"Ja, Baas Tom," rejoined the Bushman; "they nest in the cliffs yonder. So long as I can remember, and I first saw these valleys when I was so high" – he stooped his hand within a couple of feet of the earth-"the aasvogels have bred here. From the side of the berg yonder you can overlook the Gold Kloof."
"Can you, though?" broke in Guy. "Let's push on. How long will it take to reach the place?"
"It is a longish trek yet," said Poeskop. "We have to go winding through the hills, and it will be late afternoon before we reach the poort."
They moved steadily up the lovely kloof until midday, when they outspanned for a couple of hours to rest and feed the oxen. The work had been heavy. Many small trees had to be cut down to admit the passage of the wagon, boulders had to be pushed and levered aside, and all were glad of rest and refreshment. At two o'clock they inspanned and trekked again. Two valleys lay before them. Poeskop led them up that lying on the right hand. More tree-cutting and hard travel lay before them. The gorge was in places so littered with monstrous boulders that progress at times seemed almost impossible.
"I don't quite understand it, baas," said the Bushman, as he walked by Mr. Blakeney's side in front of the wagon. "The mountain seems to have been falling about here. When I last came this way there was nothing like the quantity of rocks that there now are about the valley."
"Perhaps there has been a bit of an earthquake in these parts," rejoined Mr. Blakeney. "I don't quite understand such a litter of boulders myself. The natural work of time and weather would hardly suffice to account for this valley of rocks. The mountains seem to have been in labour hereabouts."
At four o'clock they came at length to a mighty angle of mountain, where the face of the cliff, jutting out from the main mass of rock wall, ought, according to Poeskop's notion, to bear some faint resemblance to the profile of a man. But much of the cliff had fallen, and, as Poeskop confessed, the likeness had vanished.
"Now, my baases," said the Bushman, his bleared eyes gleaming with suppressed excitement, "after we turn that hoek you will see a narrow poort, and beyond that lies the kloof where the gold is. Come!"
Leaving the wagon, the four pressed on. The mountains encircling them had here, at the farther end of the valley, narrowed greatly. The precipices that frowned above them seemed almost menacing in their proximity. The place was wondrously silent. They turned the angle of the cliff, and then Poeskop suddenly halted in his tracks and stared about him. He seemed utterly bewildered.
"Where, where is the poort?" he stammered, glaring wildly in front and upon either side. "Where?" He rubbed his eyes and looked again. "The poort is gone!" he said solemnly. "What has happened? – Poeskop knows not!"
"What do you mean, Poeskop?" demanded Mr. Blakeney, somewhat sternly. "Don't play the fool."
"I am not playing the fool, baas," answered the little yellow man, a strange quiver of anguish in his voice. "The poort has gone. Look!"
And indeed it was not difficult for Mr. Blakeney and the two boys, staring in front of them, to picture what had happened. The mountain walls, through which a narrow cleft-Poeskop's poort or pass-had, not three years before, led, had fallen in. Some mighty convulsion of nature had so shattered and shaken them that they had collapsed; and where, as the Bushman explained, he had passed through between beetling walls, a solid barrier of rock and boulders, strangely riven and tumbled, now rose in a vast mass before them to a height of at least four hundred feet.
Poeskop stood, with scared and fallen face, staring at this strange and utterly unlooked-for obstacle.
"What is to be done now?" he said ruefully, "and how are we to get at the gold? We cannot climb that cliff; and if we could, we should not be able to get down on the other side."
"When you passed through the poort here, which is now blocked up," said Mr. Blakeney, "how far did you go before you came out into the Gold Kloof?"
"About a quarter of a mile, baas," answered Poeskop.
"And do you mean to tell me," pursued his interrogator, "that there is no other passage into the kloof?"
"None whatever, baas," answered the Bushman. "I know it well-every yard, every foot of it. In the old days, before this thing happened" – he pointed to the barrier of cliff and debris-"you walked through a quarter of a mile of narrow poort, in some places no more than ten feet across, and came out into the kloof. The kloof is shut in by high walls, much higher in some parts than this, and there is no other way of getting in or out. Of that I am as certain as I am that in one hour it will be nightfall. If we had wings, we could get into the valley. Without them, I don't think it is possible. The cliffs are high and sheer; not even a baboon could get down them."
They went sorrowfully back to the wagon, outspanned for the night, and, after supper, sat discussing long and earnestly the solution of the difficult problem that lay before them.
"I know!" cried Guy suddenly. "We'll have to make a rope-ladder, or a ladder of some sort. We're bound to get into this place. I know my father would, if he were here!"
Mr. Blakeney smiled at the lad's enthusiasm.
"Rather a large order, isn't it?" he said. "Five or six hundred feet of rope-ladder! And where's the rope to come from? We may have as much as a couple of hundred feet on the wagon. I brought that much, thinking we might need it; but for the rest, I for one don't see my way to it."
"I know, baas!" cried Poeskop. "We can do it; but it will take time. There is plenty game round about here. We can shoot elands, and hartebeest, and zebras, and blue wildebeest, and cut riems and bray them; and there is your rope-ladder."
"I believe you are right," said Mr. Blakeney thoughtfully. "The thing never occurred to my mind. It's an excellent idea, and if we can carry it through we shall be beholden to you, Guy. Our plan now is to start right away and begin shooting game. Only the largest animals will be of use to us. We shall want big and strong raw-hide riems, roughly dressed."
Next morning they set about the task to which they had now to devote themselves. It was an unpleasant and most thankless business, this of slaying game merely for their hides. They compared themselves with the skin-hunting Transvaal and Free State Boers of a generation before; and at the end of a week all thoroughly loathed the job. Yet it had to be done. Day after day the three white men rode out into the plains and shot game, and rode back to camp laden with skins. These the five natives cut into long thongs, or riems, and dressed and brayed in the rough but effectual South African fashion. At the end of fifteen days this part of the work was accomplished. Next they set to work to make the ladder. First, Mr. Blakeney and Poeskop, after a careful survey of the country, found their way up a long, gently-sloping nek on the northerly or left-hand side of the valley in which they were encamped, by which they attained the edge of the Gold Kloof. That evening, when they came in with their report, their discovery was received with rapturous applause by all in camp. Next morning Mr. Blakeney, Guy, Tom, and Poeskop sallied forth with four horses, laden with over five hundred feet of rope and riems, to measure the depth of the cliff wall down which they were to hang their rope-ladder. It was a long and toilsome ascent; but at length the little party stood above the kloof, and knee-haltering the horses, crept to the edge of the chasm and looked over.
It was a wonderful scene. Far below lay spread one of the fairest valleys that the eye of man has ever rested upon. Green and well bushed it was in places, and here and there thorn trees and wild olives spread their shade. Through the very centre of the valley ran a clear, shallowish stream, which seemed to take its source in a narrow cleft or ravine far up at the eastern end of the kloof. A troop of graceful red pallah wandered along the stream, apparently no whit the worse for their imprisonment in this lovely valley. Wildfowl and wading birds of various kinds checkered the surface of the stream, or ran hither and thither along the yellowish-red sands of the shallows. The kloof appeared to be about a mile and a half long by half a mile in breadth. Right in front of the watchers, on the other side of the valley, towered the mountain of the aasvogels, around the summit of which numbers of huge vultures were circling in the clear sunlit air.
"What a lovely spot!" exclaimed Tom. "It looks like gold all over."
"Yes," added Guy; "and it's quite certain we've got it all to ourselves."
"How does the stream escape out of this kloof?" asked Mr. Blakeney of Poeskop.
"It makes its way somewhere under the mountain, baas," answered the Bushman, "and comes out to the right of the poort where I used to enter-"
"And from there flows down the valley where our camp lies?" interrupted Mr. Blakeney.
"Ja, baas, that is just so," said the Bushman.
"Poeskop," again interrogated Guy, "whereabouts does the gold chiefly lie?"
"All along the banks of the river-bed, Baas Guy," returned Poeskop, "and in the river, right through the kloof. But the most of it is in the upper half of the kloof. Right up towards the deep, narrow cleft where the stream runs down from the mountain," he added, pointing to the far end of the valley, "there is plenty gold; heaps of it. You may find nuggets about the stream every ten yards or so."
"That's all right, Guy," broke in Mr. Blakeney. "No doubt the matrix of the gold lies in the bowel of the mountain yonder. Ages of time and hot sun, and weathering, and no doubt such convulsions as lately barred the poort through which Poeskop used to enter the kloof, loosened the gold, and the rains and torrents have washed the stuff down-stream and worn it into nuggets. That roughly is, I suppose, how it all happened. – Now," he continued, "let us get to work, and measure the depth of this wall of cliff."
They undid the rope and riem, and fastened them together. Then they tied a big stone to one end and lowered it over the precipice. It seemed ages before that stone touched the floor of the kloof. But at last it did so; and carefully marking the distance, they hauled it up again. Then, with a yard measure which they had brought with them, they measured the length required. Four hundred and twenty feet three inches, exactly, lay between them and the level of the treasure they sought. Hastily repacking the rope and riem on the four horses, they set off at once for camp, bent now on constructing their ladder of rope and hide as expeditiously as possible.
For three long days all hands were busily employed at work on the ladder. At length it was completed, and lay in four portions, ready to be conveyed to the edge of the cliff. It was a question whether or not they would use steps, or rungs, of wood or of hide. The latter were finally settled upon. It would have taken much longer to cut and prepare and fasten wooden rungs; and, upon the whole, steps of raw hide seemed to the adventurers lighter and more easy to fasten to the rest of the structure.