e could not help feeling that it must be a duty to defend his
own life, and certainly was one to try and protect his father and his
friends.

But Chris Lee was uncomfortable all the same, and tried hard to keep all
such thoughts back, as he once more began to watch the stars, and
listened to the _crop, crop_ of the pony, which seemed to be revelling
in the soft, dew-wet grass, whose pleasant odour rose to his nostrils as
the animal kept on uttering the familiar blowing sound to drive away
insects before nibbling off tufts and grinding them between its fine
teeth.

"Poor fellow," he said softly; "he saved my life."

And then he remarked to himself upon its being strange that the mustang
did not go far away from him, but evidently preferred grazing round and
round as if it were pleasanter to keep close to its companion, man.

It was a long, long time, during which, without once feeling the want of
rest, Chris still watched the stars, before he uttered a sigh of relief,
for they were certainly growing paler and there was a faint suggestion
of light just where, he reflected, the east would lie. Moreover, he was
where he had hoped he might find himself, and that was not far from
opposite the piece of terraced cliff where he hoped that his friends
might be.

He went at once to the pony and led it with him, now moving very
cautiously for fear of danger, towards the edge of the cliff, in the
hope that as it grew lighter some one might catch sight of him and wave
him a signal that he might take as a piece of advice.

But it was still dark below, and he knew the folly of expecting to see
any one looking up to where he stood, feeling in his heart that it was
far more likely that they might be lying in wait for his return far away
towards the entrance of the gully, ready to cover his retreat if he made
an attempt to rush in.

"But I can't," he said to himself dolefully. "It's impossible to get
down there."

He wanted to get close to the edge of the cliff, to stand above the
ranges of cells facing those they had explored; but it was still too
dark, for he knew not what rifts or precipitous places might score the
tableland upon which he stood; and the day was coming so slowly, while
he grew more impatient minute by minute.

There were moments when he thought it would be unwise to expose himself
on the top, for if there were Indians in the depression looking sharply
about, according to their nature, he would be showing wh