s piece of bread cake, and looked
up at the wall facing him, as he broke off a morsel of damper.

"Doesn't look so high as it did before I had that drink," he said, with
a laugh. "Not half so high; and by the time I've eaten my bread it will
only look half as high once more. Pooh! I can climb up. Cake's good."

He sat munching away contentedly enough now, stopping from time to time
for a fresh draught of water; and as he ate and drank he forgot the
awkwardness of his position in wonder and admiration of the mountain
precipice before him, and at last crept to the edge of that upon which
he had been seated, to obtain another look down into the mighty gorge.

"Ah, it's very grand," he sighed; "but it's time I climbed out of this."

He started, for he heard a sharp double click, like the cocking of a
gun, and looked up behind at the edge from which he had descended.

"Cricket or grasshopper," he thought; and then he felt, to use a
familiar old saying, as if his blood ran cold; for a slight movement at
the top had caught his attention, and he found himself gazing at the
muzzle of his gun, so foreshortened that there seemed to be no barrel--
nothing but a round hole, and behind it a glittering eye.

CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR.

TRUST FOR TRUST.

"Some one found my gun and taking aim at me," thought Nic, feeling
thoroughly how bad a plan it was for any one to bring out a gun for
self-defence and then leave it for an enemy to seize.

That watch kept upon the gun muzzle did not last many moments, for a
rough, mocking voice said loudly:

"Well: come to take me? Here I am."

"Leather!--I mean, I mean Frank Mayne," cried Nic joyously, as he sprang
to his feet; "found you at last!"

"Yes," said the convict bitterly, "you have found me at last. Where are
your men?"

"What men?" said Nic, staring.

"The bloodhounds you've brought to hunt me," said the convict.

"Don't talk nonsense!" cried Nic sharply. "You don't think I should
bring any one to hunt you?"

"Why not?"

"Because you know I wouldn't be such a brute. But, I say, I was right
then. I've been trying ever since you went away to think out where you
could be gone."

"And sending the police after me," said the convict bitterly.

"You know better than that," cried Nic; "but, I say, I was right then.
I felt sure you would be here."

"Why should you be?" said the man suspiciously.

"Because, don't you remember once, months ago, talking about the gorg