The ledge was all rock and it was slanting so no one could stand on it without taking a chance. Between the cracks in the rock were small bushes growing. I said, "Get down on your hands and knees, quick. Don't try to stand there." Now that he was down there on the ledge I saw how risky it was. Before there was any one down there it didn't seem so very dangerous, but as soon as I saw a person on it then I was sorry I had let him do it. I didn't see how he was going to look over the edge because he'd have to keep his hands toward the wall to hang on. He'd be taking an awful chance if he faced the other way. "It's pretty slanting, hey?" Westy said. I said, "Don't trust to it, hang onto the bushes." "I'm all right," Warde said. "No, you're not either," Hunt told him; "we can see how it is from up here better than you can. Do you slip? Look out!" "I'm all right," Warde said. "Only don't get reckless," I said. "What's the use of taking chances? I'm sorry you went down. If you can stand up maybe I can reach you." "What do you mean, _reach me_?" he said. "What do you suppose I came down here for?" "You're pretty game," Westy said, "but look out." By that time Warde was on his hands and knees. He was keeping hold of the stuff that grew through the cracks and letting himself out toward the edge of the shelf. We all stood at the top watching him and we were pretty anxious. I said, "Don't turn around, go backward." "How am I going to see anything that way?" he called. "Whoa--a----" he said, and just then he let go one little clump of bush and grabbed another. It gave me the shudders. "That was coming up," he said. I called to him, "Warde, don't try to turn around on that ledge. Crawl back and see if you can stand up enough so I can get hold of your hand. We'll call the whole thing off." He didn't pay any attention to me, but moved around so his head was toward the edge. About three feet more and he would be able to look over. It gave me the shivers just to watch him. Will Dawson said, "It's too late, he couldn't get back up here now." I knew that was so--that he wouldn't be able to get within reach of our hands. If it turned out that he couldn't go all the way down I didn't know what would happen. He was clutching little clumps of bush with his hands and sort of holding himself back that way. All of a sudden he slid forward and only stopped himself by pressing a little patch of bush between his knees. I could see he was holding his knees together with all his strength. Even still he slipped a little. I guess by that time he realized himself the danger he was in, but he didn't say anything. Westy flung off his coat and threw it down, keeping hold of one sleeve. He called, "Here, grab hold of that with one hand if you can." "I can't let go," Warde called.