placed--to attempt to move was to
fall or expose himself to the arrows waiting for him on the top of the
cliff.

The next minute the black cloud of hopelessness seemed to be cut by the
voice which came up out of the depths--the voice that told him his
friends were watching and waiting--as he felt must be the case--to fire
at the first Indian who showed himself above the top of the cliff.

"Chris!" So low and distant, but so clear. "Chris!"

"Ahoy! _Coo-ee_!" shouted the boy downward, and from between his hands.

This time there was no answering yell, and Chris listened to the words
that came up, sending a thrill of joy through him, but at the same time
a strange tremor of fear.

"Can you hear?" came now.

"Yes."

"Then--listen," came with very slow emphasis. "You--must--creep--
gully--lower--self--down."

Chris was silent as he sat staring down as it seemed into nothing but
the clear air, for the stone to which he had clung projected from the
cliff-face, just as the parts above him overhung as if about to fall.

"Hear?" came from below.

The single word was so sharp and imperative that the boy replied at
once, shouting the one word, "Can't!" And then, as if ashamed of
himself for so shrinking a reply, he alluded to one only of the dangers
which hemmed him in by crying out, "Indians!"

Chris's heart leaped again, and hope grew brighter, for he more fully
grasped his situation from the next words that came, though he had
pretty well understood it before.

"Dare--not--show."

But the words had hardly been uttered before Chris felt that he knew
more than his friends, for his strained and wandering eyes, which shrank
from gazing down into the awful depths below, suddenly became aware of a
slight movement amongst the pensile growth between the summit and the
spot from which the Indians had shot at him.

He was in doubt for a few moments, and he held his breath as he
cautiously brought his rifle to bear upon the hanging bush. But it did
not stir, and it seemed evident that he had only imagined the danger.

He had held his breath painfully while he watched, and now, feeling that
he was wrong, and must say something to those below, he breathed again
freely and was about to speak when his heart seemed to stand still
again, for one swinging bough was slightly agitated and pressed aside,
showing the glistening, copper-hued skin of an Indian's shoulder, with
the strap of a quiver-sling plainly in view.

T