uarry a streak of sunshine glinting through the tree top
brightened his face.

The hunter was Joe.

He was satisfied now, for after stowing the squirrel in the pocket
of his hunting coat he shouldered his rifle and went back up the
ravine. Presently a dull roar sounded above the babble of the brook.
It grew louder as he threaded his way carefully over the stones.
Spots of white foam flecked the brook. Passing under the gray,
stained cliff, Joe turned around a rocky corner, and came to an
abrupt end of the ravine. A waterfall marked the spot where the
brook entered. The water was brown as it took the leap, light green
when it thinned out; and below, as it dashed on the stones, it
became a beautiful, sheeny white.

Upon a flat rock, so near the cascade that spray flew over him, sat
another hunter. The roaring falls drowned all other sounds, yet the
man roused from his dreamy contemplation of the waterfall when Joe
rounded the corner.

"I heerd four shots," he said, as Joe came up.

"Yes; I got a squirrel for every shot."

Wetzel led the way along a narrow foot trail which gradually wound
toward the top of the ravine. This path emerged presently, some
distance above the falls, on the brink of a bluff. It ran along the
edge of the precipice a few yards, then took a course back into
densely wooded thickets. Just before stepping out on the open cliff
Wetzel paused and peered keenly on all sides. There was no living
thing to be seen; the silence was the deep, unbroken calm of the
wilderness.

Wetzel stepped to the bluff and looked over. The stony wall opposite
was only thirty feet away, and somewhat lower. From Wetzel's action
it appeared as if he intended to leap the fissure. In truth, many a
band of Indians pursuing the hunter into this rocky fastness had
come out on the bluff, and, marveling at what they thought Wetzel's
prowess, believed he had made a wonderful leap, thus eluding them.
But he had never attempted that leap, first, because he knew it was
well-nigh impossible, and secondly, there had never been any
necessity for such risk.

Any one leaning over this cliff would have observed, perhaps ten
feet below, a narrow ledge projecting from the face of the rock. He
would have imagined if he were to drop on that ledge there would be
no way to get off and he would be in a worse predicament.

Without a moment's hesitation Wetzel swung himself over the ledge.
Joe followed suit. At one end of this lower ledge gr