ake corn-dodgers.
Then I'll tell Pete whar ye air, an' what ye said 'bout'n the rope. Ye
must jes' wait fur me hyar."

Poor Ethan could do nothing else.

As the echo of the boy's shambling step died in the distance, a
redoubled sense of loneliness fell upon Ethan Tynes. But he endeavored
to [v]solace himself with the reflection that the important mission to
the squirrel-trap and the errand to the mill could not last forever, and
before a great while Peter Birt and his rope would be upon the crag.

This idea [v]buoyed him up as the hours crept slowly by. Now and then he
lifted his head and listened with painful intentness. He felt stiff in
every muscle, and yet he had a dread of making an effort to change his
[v]constrained position. He might lose control of his rigid limbs, and
fall into those dread depths beneath.

His patience at last began to give way; his heart was sinking. The
messenger had been even more [v]dilatory than he was prepared to expect.
Why did not Pete come? Was it possible that George had forgotten to tell
of his danger. The sun was going down, leaving a great glory of gold and
crimson clouds and an [v]opaline haze upon the purple mountains. The
last rays fell on the bronze feathers of the turkey still lying tied to
the broken vines on the ledge.

And now there were only frowning masses of dark clouds in the west; and
there were frowning masses of clouds overhead. The shadow of the coming
night had fallen on the autumnal foliage in the deep valley; in the
place of the opaline haze was only a gray mist.

And presently there came, sweeping along between the parallel mountain
ranges, a somber raincloud. The lad could hear the heavy drops splashing
on the tree-tops in the valley, long, long before he felt them on his
head.

The roll of thunder sounded among the crags. Then the rain came down
tumultuously, not in columns but in livid sheets. The lightnings rent
the sky, showing, as it seemed to him, glimpses of the glorious
brightness within,--too bright for human eyes.

He clung desperately to his precarious perch. Now and then a fierce rush
of wind almost tore him from it. Strange fancies beset him. The air was
full of that wild [v]symphony of nature, the wind and the rain, the
pealing thunder, and the thunderous echo among the cliffs, and yet he
thought he could hear his own name ringing again and again through all
the tumult, sometimes in Pete's voice, sometimes in George's shrill
tones.

E