Frank was feeling his way along carefully when he heard Bob call his
name. The rattle of falling shale at the same time gave him a pretty
strong suspicion as to what had happened.
"Hello! what's the matter Bob?" he cried.
"I slipped, and fell over the edge of some sort of place here," came
back the answer. "Luckily I've managed to get hold of a rock and
stopped my tumble. But don't waste any time lending me a hand, Frank,
because it seems to me I feel the thing move. If another quake comes
it'll let me drop; and perhaps the ground may be a full dozen feet
below."
By this time Frank had reached the edge of the drop. He remembered
skirting it in climbing upward just a minute before; but had been more
successful about doing so than Bob, who was less accustomed to this
kind of work.
Frank again had recourse to his handy match-safe. Leaning over he
struck a match on the face of the rock. Immediately he drew a quick
breath. It was not because he could see the face of his chum only a
couple of feet away, as the latter clung to a spur of rocks; it was
something else that thrilled him.
As far down as his eyes could see there was only a black void! Instead
of the simple dozen feet mentioned by Bob, the yawning precipice
extended perhaps a full hundred feet downward!
But there was no need of telling Bob that it might alarm the boy and
cause him to weaken, so that his grip would give way.
Frank was quick to understand what must be done.
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