ing, and was surprised to see them
drawing off. His father joined him, and they watched the mountaineers
retire to the point where the shelf-road began. Here they squatted on
the ground, lighted their pipes, and calmly smoked, motionless as the
rocks around them.

"There are two short," said Jack, after counting them.

"Yes," returned his father, "they have been despatched for
reinforcements, and to give word that we have been discovered. Their
friends are on guard."

At this moment the Kachin whom Jack had felled with the bar began to
move. Jack was upon him in a moment, whipping off his girdle, and
tying him hand and foot with stout strips of it. Mr. Haydon now began
to talk with the native woman. As a rule he had preferred to speak
with her through Me Dain, for her dialect contained many words
unfamiliar to him. But now Me Dain, their stout-hearted, faithful
guide, was gone, and it seemed as if no great interval could elapse
before their fate, too, would be settled.

The woman had brought a small store of food with her. She ate, and
offered some to her companions. But they would not touch it, though
hunger was gnawing keenly at them.

Mr. Haydon sat down with his back against the cliff, but Jack could
not keep still. He moved restlessly to and fro on their narrow patch,
and glanced into the depths on every side. Was there nothing to be
done? Must they wait idly here until their enemies were strong enough
to rush them in overwhelming force?

Jack had gone to the farthest point of their refuge, and was lying at
full length with his head over the edge of the last beam. He was
staring into the wild foaming torrent, when an inequality in the face
of the descending cliff caught his eye. He looked intently, and saw
that some fifteen feet above the river a narrow ledge ran horizontally
along the cliff. He followed the ledge with his eye. It ran down
towards the river, narrowed, and disappeared. He raised his head and
called his father. Mr. Haydon was by his side in a moment. Jack
pointed out the ledge.

"If we could drop on to that," he said, "we might get away up the pass
after all."

"I'm afraid there's not much of a chance there," returned his father.
"The ledge shelves away to the river. But in any case, how are we
going to descend a precipice as smooth as glass? It's a good
five-and-thirty feet down to that point."

Jack bit his lip in perplexity for a moment. Then his brow cleared, as
a sudden idea slipped