e rim of the Grand Canyon had there been any one there to hear
it. Dad danced a wild hornpipe, the Professor strode up and down,
first thrusting his hands into his pockets, then withdrawing and waving
them above his head. Stacy had settled down on the rocks with the
tears streaming down his cheeks. Stacy wasn't joking now. This
emotion was real.

They began to shout out Tad's name. It was plain that he heard them,
for he waved a listless hand then returned to his former position.

"That boy is all iron," breathed the admiring guide.

The noise of the river was so great that they could not ask him if he
were hurt seriously. But Tad answered the question himself a few
minutes later by getting up. He stood for a moment swaying as if he
would fall over again, then staggered to the wall, against which he
leaned, still holding his head.

"He must have got an awful wallop," declared Dad.

Shortly after that Tad appeared to have recovered somewhat, for he was
seen to be gazing up over the rocks, apparently trying to choose a
route for himself.

"How can he ever make that dizzy climb in his condition?" groaned the
Professor.

"We'll see. I think he can do anything," returned Nance.

Tad walked back and forth a few times, exercising his muscles, then
turned toward the rocks which he began to climb. He proceeded slowly
and with great caution, evidently realizing the peril of his undertaking,
but taking no greater chances than he was obliged to do.

Little by little he worked his way upward, Now and then halting, clinging
to the rocks for support while he rested. After a time he looked down
at his companions. Nance waved a hand, signaling Tad to turn to the
right. Tad saw and understood the signal and acted accordingly.

Once he stood up and gazed off over the rugged peaks, sharp knife-like
edges and sheer wails before him. There seemed not sufficient foothold
for a bird where he was standing, and though a thousand feet above the
river, he seemed not to feel the height at all nor to be in the least
dizzy.

It was dangerous work, exhausting work; but oh! what self-reliance, what
pluck and levelheadedness was Tad Butler displaying. Had he never
accomplished anything worth while in his life, those who saw him now
could but admire the lad's wonderful courage.

They hung upon his movements, scarcely breathing at all, as little by
little the lad crept along, now swinging by his hands from one ledge
to another