Big Pete eagerly snatched the pole from my hands and examined it carefully. At length he said, “This hyer is the end used for the handle; one can see by the finger marks, an’ this crook is used to scrape stone with, one kin see, with half an eye, by the way the end is sandpapered off. Over tha’ air some marks on the stone which look almighty like as if they’d been made by the end of this yer hook slipping down the face of the rock. “Now, I wonder wha’ cud be up tha’ on the top of the rock that the boy wanted,” mused Big Pete, and for a moment or so he stood in silent thought; at length he exclaimed, “Why, bless my corn-shucking soul, if I don’t believe he’s got a lariat staked out tha’ an’ crosses this ditch same as we-uns aimed to do!” With that he began raking and scraping the top of the opposite rock with the shepherd’s crook, and presently there came tumbling and twisting like a snake down the face of the cliff, a long braided rawhide rope with a loop at the bottom end. “Waugh, Le-loo! tha’s no witchcraft ’bout this ’cep the magic of common-sense; but we hain’t through with him yit!” By this time Pete had the end of the rawhide rope in his hands and was testing the strength of its anchorage upon the opposite cliff. The point where it was fastened projected some distance over the ledge, where the supposed landing-place was located, thus making it possible for one to swing at the end of the rope from our side without danger of coming into too violent contact with the opposite cliff. As soon as my big friend was satisfied that the rope was safe he grasped it with his two hands, and with one foot in the loop and the other free to use as a fender, he sailed across the abyss and landed safely upon the crumbling ledge opposite.