"All right. I'm doing well now. Just keep the line fairly steady so
that I won't lose my footing."

He was obliged to raise his voice now, being a long way down the
slope, with the goal still far from him.

"Who would have ever thought it so far?" Tad asked himself. "I'm sure
now that the rope will not reach."

Believing that he could obtain a better footing a little to the right
of him, he motioned for more rope, then raised his hand aloft as a
signal that he had sufficient for present needs, all of which Stacy
repeated with more or less correctness.

Tad had gained a broad, shelving rock this time. Above him projected
a rocky roof that reminded him of the roof over his mother's porch at
home. It shut off his view of the cliff above him entirely. Straight
down below him roared the river, here and there a spout of white spray
shooting up into the air, revealing the presence of a hidden,
treacherous rock.

It was an impressive moment for Tad Butler up there alone, with
nothing between himself and sudden death save a slender quarter-inch
strand of rope.

But though he felt the loneliness of his position, he felt no fear; he
was impressed with the solitary grandeur of it all. Time was
pressing, however, and he decided that he must continue his descent.