"Oh, for an hour more of daylight," lamented Billy, as dusk began to envelop the lonely mountain. "Gee! Why didn't I think of it before?" Imbued with his new idea, he quickly swung around, bounced to his feet, hauled Henri up by the wrists, and triumphantly demanded: "What's the matter with flying around there in the machine?" "But it's getting too dark now to see anything in that hole," objected Henri. "Where's your wits, Buddy? What do we carry searchlights for?" "I sure am a woodenpate," admitted Henri, using a fist to tap his forehead; "let's go to the biplane as fast as our legs will carry us." The boys raced like mad for camp. With every light available from both machines set in one of the biplanes, fore and aft, the young aviators sailed through the shadows, got their bearings from the big rock and fearlessly swooped into the lower strata. The glittering gondola of the air trailed a line of illumination along the rugged face of the chasm wall, but in the first passing, Henri, as observed, gave no signal of discovery. The insistent hum of the motors prevented the hearing of any hail that might be given from without, and as effectually drowned any call from within the machine. "Another round, Billy boy," shouted Henri, "a little lower down." The next circle and come-back brought results, attested by a gleeful hurrah from the observer. "There's a man on the ledge over there--there's two, by jingo! Round again, pard. Steady now!" The aëroplane was dangerously near the ledge, a little above it. Henri was standing, one hand gripping a stay for balance, and in the other grasping a ball of whipcord. With a sharp turn the pilot nosed away, the tail lights of the machine gleamed full for an instant upon the dark figures silhouetted on the rock face, and in that precious, fleeting instant, with a round arm swing, Henri sent the cord ball, unwinding as it dropped, straight down upon the ledge. "Up!" sang out the maker of the successful throw, and as the biplane made almost perpendicular ascent, it tugged, kite like, at a long line of cord, paid out by one of the men left behind on the rocky shelf. Once out of the canyon, the pilot checked his flight at the first level, and both boys, under the glare of the searchlight, speedily spliced and knotted two coils of fine-fibered rope, part of the flying equipment. Henri, leaning over the edge, drew the cord connection taut, indicating to the holders below that all was ready at the top. The boy felt sure that Roque would understand--for it was Roque he had seen in the circle of light when the ball was thrown. Sure enough, the cord was drawn downward, and the rope followed the cord, with, happily, plenty to spare for the making of a safe and secure anchorage. "Roque is something of a sailor, as we know, and he'll come up all right, with a good purchase for his feet against the wall. As for Schneider, the three of us can hoist him, if necessary."