ght from above, gave
the one who knew how the easy passage to the points of rock. Then for
nearly a hundred feet zigzagging up stream by leaping cautiously to the
right place, by clinging and swinging, the way opened before us. I took
the first twenty feet at a slide. The others caught the leather rope,
testing to see if it was securely fastened. Its two ends were tied
around the deeply grooved stone.

Father Le Claire and Jim Conlow stayed at the top. The one to help us
back again; the other, as the swiftest-footed boy among us, to run to
town with any message needful to be sent. The rest of us, taking all
manner of fearful risks, crashed down over the side of that bluff in
headlong haste.

The Hermit's Cave opened on a narrow ledge such as runs below the
"Rockport" point, where Marjie and I used to play, off Cliff Street. We
reached this ledge at last, hot and breathless, hardly able to realize
that we were really here in the place that had baffled us so long. It
was an almost inaccessible climb to the crest above us, and the cliff
had to be taken at an angle even then. I believe any one accustomed only
to the prairie would never have dared to try it.

The Hermit's Cave was merely a deep recess under the overhanging shelf.
It penetrated far enough to offer a retreat from the weather. The thick
tangle of vines before it so concealed the place that it was difficult
to find it at first. Just beyond it the rock projected over the line of
wall and overhung the river. It was on this point that the old Hermit
had been wont to sit, and from which tradition says he fell to his doom.
It was here we had seen Jean Pahusca on that hot August afternoon the
summer before. How long ago all that seemed now as the memory of it
flashed up in my mind, and I recalled O'mie's quiet boast, "If he can
get up there, so can I!"

I was a careless boy that day. I felt myself a man now, with human
destiny resting on my shoulders. As we came to this rocky projection I
was leading the file of cliff-climbers. The cave was concealed by the
greenery. I stared about and then I called, "O'mie! O'mie!"

Faintly, just beside me, came the reply: "Phil, you 've come? Thank
God!"

I tore through the bushes and vines into the deep recess. The dimness
blinded me at first. What I saw when the glare left my eyes was O'mie
stretched on the bare stones, bound hand and foot. His eyes were burning
like stars in the gloom. His face was white and drawn with suf