to us, Jem. We must warn them of danger."

"But, lookye here, Mas' Don, s'pose it arn't danger. Pretty pair o'
Bristol noodles we shall look, lying down at the bottom here, with all
our legs and arms broke for nothing at all."

Don stood gazing at his companion, full of perplexity.

"Think it is real danger, Mas' Don?"

"I'm afraid so. You heard Tomati say that there were desperate fights
sometimes."

"Don't call him Tomati; I 'ates it," growled Jem. "Well, I s'pose it is
danger, then."

"And we must look the matter in the face, Jem. If we go back those
people will be at the village before us. Perhaps we shall meet them,
and be made prisoners; but if we go on here, we shall save an hour,
perhaps two. Yes, I shall climb down."

"No, no; let me go first, Mas' Don."

"Why?"

"Because I shall do to tumble on if you do let go, or any bush breaks."

"Here seems to be about the best place, Jem," said Don, without heeding
his companion's last remark; and, setting his teeth, he lowered himself
down, holding on by the bushes and aerial roots of the various tough,
stunted pieces of vegetation, which clung to the decomposing volcanic
rock.

Jem's face puckered up as he set his teeth, and watched Don descend a
few feet. Then, stooping over, he said cheerily,--

"That's the way, Mas' Don; take it cool, stick tight, and never think
about the bottom. Are you getting on all right?"

"Yes."

"That's your sort. I'm coming now."

Jem began to whistle as he lowered himself over the edge of the
precipice, a few feet to Don's right; and directly after he began to
sing merrily,--

"`There was a man in Bristol city,
Fol de rol de riddle-lol-de-ri.
And that's the first o' this here ditty,
Fol de rol de-riddle-lol-de-ri.'

"Say, Mas' Don, 'tarn't so bad, after all."

"It's terrible, Jem!" panted Don, "Can we do it?"

"Can we do it? Ha, ha, ha!" cried Jem. "Can we do it? Hark at him!
We're just the boys as can do it. Why, it arn't half so bad as being up
on the main-top gallant yard.

"`Fol de rol de-riddle-lol-de-ri.'"

"Don't make that noise, Jem, pray."

"Why not, my lad? That's your sort; try all the roots before you trust
'em. I'm getting on splen--"

_Rush_!

"Jem!"

"All right, Mas' Don! Only slipped ten foot of an easy bit to save
tumbles."

"It isn't true. I was looking at you, and I saw that root you were
holding come out of the rock."

"Did you, Mas' Don? Oh, I though