risome climb they came
out on the edge of a lofty minor cliff which commanded a panoramic view
of Temple Camp. They were, in fact, close to the edge of the more
precipitous ascent and near the very point whence the eagle had swooped
down.

From this spot the path descended into the thicket and down the steep
declivity. Below them lay Black Lake with tiny black specks upon
it--canoes manned by scouts. The faintest suggestion of human voices
could be heard, but they did not sound human; rather like voices from
another world.

Suddenly, in the vast, solemn stillness below them a shrill whistling
sounded clear out of the dense jungle. It might have been a hundred
yards down, or fifty; Tom could not say.

He was not at all excited nor elated. Holding up one hand to warn Hervey
to silence, he stood waiting, listening intently.

Again the whistle sounded, shrill, clear-cut, in the still morning air.

CHAPTER XXXIV

THE RESCUE

"Take off your shoes and leave them here," Tom whispered; "and follow me
and don't speak. Step just where I step."

Tom's soft moccasins were better even than stocking feet and he moved
down into the thicket stealthily, silently. Not a twig cracked beneath
his feet. He lifted the impediments of branch and bush aside and let
them spring easily back into place again without a sound. Hervey crawled
close behind him, passing through these openings while Tom held the
entangled thicket apart for both to pass. He moved like a panther. Never
in all his life had Hervey Willetts seen such an exhibition of scouting.

Presently Tom paused, holding open the brush. "Hervey," he said in the
faintest whisper, "they say you're happy-go-lucky. Are you willing to
risk your life--again?"

"I'm yours sincerely forever, Slady."

"We're going home the short way; we're going down the way the turtle
did," Tom whispered. "It's the only way--look. Shh."

With heart thumping in his breast, Hervey looked down where Tom pointed
and saw amid the dense thicket a glint of bright red. Even as he looked,
it moved, and appeared again in another tiny opening of the thicket
close by.

"What is it?" he whispered.

"A. H." Tom hardly breathed. "It's little Anthony Harrington--shh. Don't
speak from now on; just follow me. See this trickle of water? There's a
spring down there. They can't have their camp there, they'd roll down.
The kid is there alone. If you're not willing to tackle the descent, say
so. If we go down