Suddenly they stood still.

For a long, silent moment they gazed at a rickety old wooden stairway
that, at this point in the unbroken line of cliffs, climbs zigzag up
the face of the rock-buttressed wall. Then, as if moved by a common
impulse, they faced each other. The quick fire of adventure kindled in
the eyes of the boy as he met the girl's look of understanding.

"Let's go up--stump yer," he said, with a daredevil grin.

"Huh, yer wouldn't dast."

Womanlike, she was hoping that he would "dast" and, with the true
instinct of her sex, she chose unerringly the one way to bring about
the realization of her hope.

Her companion met the challenge like a man. With a swaggering show of
courage, he went to the stairway and climbed boldly up--six full steps.
Then he paused and looked down, "I don't dast, don't I?"

From the lower step she spurred his faltering spirit, "Dare yer--dare
yer--dare yer."

He came reluctantly down two steps, "Will yer go up if I do?"

She nodded, "Uh-huh--but yer gotter go first."

He looked doubtfully up at the edge of the cliff so far above them.
"Shucks," he said, with conviction, "ain't nobody up there 'cept old
Interpreter, an' that dummy, Billy Rand. I know 'cause Skinny Davis an'