the way we had come.
The drop-off into the feather snow settled that. A short reconnaissance
made it very evident that we would have to go completely around the
outside of the Citadel, at the level of the saddle, until we had gained
the other ridge. This meant about three quarters of a mile against the
tremendous cliff.

We found a ledge and started. Our packs weighed about sixty pounds
apiece, and we were forced to carry them rather high. The ledge proved
to be from six to ten feet wide, with a gentle slope outward. We could
not afford the false steps, nor the little slips, nor the overbalancings
so unimportant on level ground. Progress was slow and cautious. We could
not but remember the heart-stopping drop of that goat after we had cut
the rope; and the swoop of the raven. Especially at the corners did we
hug close to the wall, for the wind there snatched at us eagerly.

The ledge held out bravely. It had to; for there was no possible way to
get up or down from it. We rounded the shoulder of the pile. Below us
now was another landscape into which to fall--the valley of the stream,
with its forests and its high cliffs over the way. But already we could
see our ridge. Another quarter mile would land us in safety.

Without warning the ledge pinched out. A narrow tongue of shale, on so
steep a slope that it barely clung to the mountain, ran twenty feet to a
precipice. A touch sent its surface rattling merrily down and into
space. It was only about eight feet across; and then the ledge began
again.

We eyed it. Three steps would take us across. Alternative: return along
the ledge to attack the problem _ab initio_.

"That shale is going to start," said Frank. "If you stop, she'll sure
carry you over the ledge. But if you keep right on going, _fast_, I
believe your weight will carry you through."

We readjusted our packs so they could not slip and overbalance us; we
measured and re-measured with our eyes just where those steps would
fall; we took a deep breath--and we _hustled_. Behind us the fine shale
slid sullenly in a miniature avalanche that cascaded over the edge. Our
"weight had carried us through!"

In camp, we found that Harry's shooting had landed a kid, so that we had
a goat apiece.

We rejoined the main camp next day just ahead of a big snowstorm that
must have made travel all but impossible. Then for five days we rode
out, in snow, sleet, and hail. But we were entirely happy, and
indifferent to what