The huge rocking-stone, weighing thousands of tons, which for ages had remained delicately balanced upon the edge of the chasm, had been struck by a bolt of lightning and torn from its base. Crashing into the gulf, a point of the great, wedge-shaped boulder had entered the mouth of the cave where the desperadoes sought shelter, and, crowded forward by its own weight, it had sealed up the robbers in a living grave, from whence no power of man could ever rescue them. It was this mighty wedge, crowded into the space between the slender peak and the main cliff, that had caused the former to lean outward; and in one comprehensive look we were able to read the whole story of the night’s tragedy—a tragedy we had instinctively felt in the crash of the storm, but could only realize now. “Poor fellows!” I whispered, softly, forgetting in my awe that they had been our relentless enemies. “It was a terrible fate. Perhaps they’re even now sitting in that dark hole, shut off from all the world and waiting for death to overtake them. Isn’t it dreadful.” The blacks glanced at one another without reply; but I noticed that they exchanged a secret sign which their pagan priests had taught them when they were boys, and which was supposed to propitiate the demon of retribution. To their simple minds Daggett and his gang of cut-throats had been properly punished for their wickedness. But for my part I am glad to remember that at the moment I ignored the fact that these men were wicked, and grieved that four human beings had suddenly been cut off in the prime of their manhood. The recollection of their crimes might temper my regret afterward, but just now my thoughts were all of sorrow and commiseration. Nux roused me from my reflections by asking: “What we do now, Mars Sam?” “I don’t know,” I answered, despairingly. “If we can’t escape from this rock we are little better off than those poor fellows below us. See! the stone, as it fell, tore away the ledge completely.” “No climb down, any way at all,” said Bry, squatting upon the rock and clasping his knees with his hands. “We haven’t any rope, or enough clothing to make one,” I continued, striving to be calm and to force myself to think clearly. “But if we remain up here it won’t take us long to die of thirst or starvation. The aggravating thing about it is that the mainland is just too far away for us to leap across to it. We’re in a bad fix, boys, and no mistake.” Bry gazed reflectively at the trees. “If we had axe,” said he, “we chop down tree, and make fall across the gulf.” “Ah! that’s a clever idea,” I cried; but my elation quickly subsided, and I added gloomily, in the next breath: “only we have no axe.” Bry made no answer, but sat thoughtfully gazing around him. Presently he began to creep around the table of rock on his hands and knees, examining every part of its surface with great care.