with a long-drawn sigh
of fatigue.

"Waal," he replied, in a drowsy tone, "I dunno 'bout'n that. I'm sorter
banged out, 'kase I hev had a powerful hard day's work a-bilin' sorghum
at our house. I b'lieves I'll rest my bones hyar, an' wait fur ye."

As he spoke, he rolled up one of the coats which they had both thrown
off, during their search for the nest on the summit of the cliff, and
slipped it under his head. He was far the brighter boy of the two, but
his sharp wits seemed to thrive at the expense of his body. He was small
and puny, and he was easily fatigued in comparison with big burly Nick,
who rarely knew such a sensation, and prided himself upon his toughness.

"Waal, Barney, surely ye air the porest little shoat on G'liath
Mounting!" he exclaimed scornfully, as he had often done before. But he
made no further attempt to persuade Barney, and began the descent alone.

It was not so difficult a matter for a sure-footed mountaineer like
Nick to make his way down to the ledge as one might imagine, for in a
certain place the face of the cliff presented a series of jagged edges
and projections which afforded him foothold. As he went along, too, he
kept a strong grasp upon overhanging vines and bushes that grew out
from earth-filled crevices.

He had gone down only a short distance when he paused thoughtfully.
"This hyar wind air blowin' powerful brief," he said. "I mought get
chilled an' lose my footin'."

He hardly liked to give up the expedition, but he was afraid to continue
on his way in the teeth of the mountain wind, cold and strong in the
October afternoon. If only he had his heavy jeans coat with him!

"Barney!" he called out, intending to ask his friend to throw it over to
him.

There was no answer.

"That thar Barney hev drapped off ter sleep a'ready!" he exclaimed
indignantly.

He chanced to glance upward as he was about to call again. There he saw
a coat lying on the edge of the cliff, the dangling sleeve fluttering
just within his reach. When he dragged it down and discovered that it
was Barney's instead of his own, he was slightly vexed, but it
certainly did not seem a matter of great importance.

"That boy hev got _my_ coat, an' this is his'n. But law! I'd ruther
squeeze myself small enough ter git inter his'n, than ter hev ter yell
like a catamount fur an hour an' better ter wake him up, an' make him
gimme mine."

He seated himself on a narrow projection of the crag, and began to
caut