A moment more, snow-shoes in hand, Ross was on his back sliding down an almost perpendicular wall, his hair doing its best to raise his cap from his head. Slowly he was let down, down, so far as he could see, into space. Then suddenly, just as he had closed his eyes in dizzy terror, his feet struck snow into which he sank to his knees, and the rope above slackened. The ledge had stopped him, but it seemed to Ross but an insecure footing hung between heaven and earth. It was a mere path across the face of the cliff not more than three feet wide at the widest part. Ross untied the end; and then, as he felt it jerked from behind him, he covered his eyes with his hand and stood shivering, crowding back against the cliff. It was the work of a moment only for Miller to slide down the rope and stand beside him. "Hug the cliff," directed Ross's conductor shortly, "and follow me. No, don't put on your shoes. I'll break the trail fer ye." Slowly they crawled across the face of the cliff, the ledge leading downward. At the base they were in a winding canon scarcely twenty yards wide. Here they buckled on their snow-shoes again. "If," said Miller, bending over the straps, "we see it's best fer you t' stay a few days with my pard and let me go back and help Uncle Jake, I wouldn't do much investigatin' of the premises around here if I was you." Ross shuddered, and looked up at the face of the cliff, obscured now not only by the storm, but by the coming darkness. "No investigating for me!" he exclaimed forcefully. Then they began the tramp up the canon, the shadow from the wooded mountains deepening every moment. Finally, Miller made a sharp turn around a group of seven spruces standing at the foot of a peak, and cautiously approached a log shack that stood half buried in the snow, and had as its corner posts four tall trees. The snow was shoveled away from the door and window, and a light smoke arose from the joint of stovepipe projecting from the roof. At the door Miller stopped and listened. "Guess he's asleep," he whispered. "Take off yer shoes out here." Ross stooped, and unbuckled his snow-shoes. "Guess the fire must be low," whispered Miller. "Wisht you'd go round the corner there, and load up with wood while I go in and see what he's up to. But don't come in till I tell ye to. I'll sort of prepare him to see ye." Ross did as he was bidden. He found the path to the pile of pine chunks partly broken; but, with his numb fingers incased in huge mittens, it was not easy work to dig out the wood frozen under its covering of snow. But finally, his arms full, he staggered around the corner of the shack, and stood again in front of the door. So busy had he been at the wood-pile that he had not thought of listening for sounds within the shack.