“That’s proper,” said Dan. “But say, how about having the rope work over the edge of the turf here?” “Won’t do,” answered Bob. “It would cut into the turf and scrape on the edge of the rock. We ought to have a plank or something.” “That old log over there will do all right,” said Nelson. “Fetch it over, Tom.” Tom obeyed, grunting, and the dead trunk was laid at the edge of the cliff. “What’s going to keep it from rolling over onto your head?” asked Tom of Dan. Dan looked puzzled. So did the others. “Seems to me,” said Nelson, “we didn’t get this more’n half planned out.” “History teaches us,” said Dan, “that even the world’s greatest generals have been quite frequently ‘up a tree.’” “Wonder if they were ever up a bluff?” murmured Tom. “I’ll tell you what,” said Dan, after a moment’s consideration of the problem, “we’ll have to drive stakes on each side of the log; see?” “Yes,” Bob answered dryly, “but I don’t see the stakes.” “That’s easy. Who’s got the biggest knife?” It appeared that Tom had; so Dan borrowed it, and set to work cutting down a stout branch and converting it into four stakes some eighteen inches in length. It took a good while, and the other three fellows disposed themselves comfortably on the ground and looked on. “Wish those Wickasaws had broken their silly necks!” grumbled Nelson. “We’re going to miss our soak.” “Maybe we’ll miss our dinner, too,” said Tom. “Oh, cut it out!” said Bob. “You can eat to-morrow. I don’t see what you want to eat for, anyhow, fat as you are.” At last the stakes were done and were driven into the turf at each side of the log, Tom mashing his finger with the rock which he was using as a hammer. Then Bob and Tom and Nelson manned the rope, and Dan wriggled over the edge of the cliff, feet foremost, keeping a tight hold on the rope. When only his head remained in sight he winked merrily. “If I make a mess of it, fellows, kindly see that you find all the pieces,” he called. “And don’t forget to put on my headstone ‘Requiescat in pieces.’” Then the flaming red head disappeared, and the fellows let the rope slip slowly around the tree. It seemed a long while before it slackened. When Bob got to the edge Dan was scrambling over the rocks into the bushes. Presently he was back flourishing the brush and can. “We don’t need to pull you all the way up again,” shouted Bob. “We’ll get you up where you are going to paint and then lower the can down to you. Is that all right?” “All right,” echoed Dan. Then he stepped onto the seat at the end of the rope and waved his hand. Bob and Nelson laid back on the rope, and slowly it began to come up over the log, Tom securing the slack after each haul with a double turn around the tree. Finally there came a shout, and, after a glance over the edge, Bob directed them to make fast, and tied the twine to the can of blue paint and lowered it. Suddenly there was a yell of dismay and wrath from below. “See what’s wrong!” cried Bob.