reached the top.

But this time, provided with rope, and, by Bigley Uggleston's
forethought, with the iron bar, the ascent seemed easy, and we set about
it at once.

Big soon found a place on the shoulder of our little mountain where
blocks of a ton-weight and less lay around, some of them so weakened and
overhanging that they looked as if a touch would send them thundering
down into the gorge.

Between two of these Big drove in the long iron bar, the rope was thrown
right over the rock, one end tied securely to the bar, the other held by
Bigley on the other side, the great heavy fellow hanging on to it, and
the question arose as to whether Bob or I was to make the first attempt.

I wanted to go, but I felt that if I did, Bob would be affronted, so I
gave way and let him lead, giving him a hoist or two as he seized the
rope, and climbed, and scratched, and kicked, and got up half-way and
then slid down again.

"Here, Big," he shouted, "what's the good of bringing such a stupid
little thin rope? It's no good."

"Can't you get up?" cried Big.

"No, nor anyone else. It's no use. Let's get back."

"No, no; let me try," I cried eagerly.

"Don't I tell you it's of no use," he said angrily. "Here, I'll go
again and show you. Hold on tight, Big."

"Yes, I'm holding," came from deep down in Bigley's chest, and Bob made
another attempt, scrambling up over my back and on to my shoulders, and
ending in his struggles by giving me so severe a kick on the head that I
leaped away, leaving him hanging by his hands, so that when he relaxed
his hold he came down in a sitting position, with so hard a bump upon
the stones that he seemed to bounce up again in a fit of fury to begin
stamping about with rage and pain.

"Oh--oh--oh!" he gasped. "You did that on purpose."

"Oh, I say, you do make me laugh," spluttered out Bigley, who held on
tightly to the rope to keep it strained.

"Yes, I'll make you laugh," cried Bob, flying at him and punching away,
while Bigley held on by the rope, and the more Bob punched the more he
laughed.

"Oh, I say, don't," he panted. "You hurt."

"I mean to hurt," cried Bob. "You and Sep Duncan got that up between
you, and he did it to make you laugh."

"I didn't say you kicked me on the ear on purpose," I grumbled. "Oh, I
say, Bob, your boot-toe is hard."

"Wish it had been ten times harder," he snarled.

"Oh, never mind," said Bigley, "I'm getting tired of holding the rope.
Why do