“Pessimism!” laughed Reivers. “Too much caution stunts the possibility of the mind. Interesting demonstration of the fact, with your mind as an example.” He turned and smote with the flat of his hand the stone wall from under which they had just emerged. “What’s the other side of those rocks, Mac?” “Shanty Moir and his six-shooter.” “And dogs, and food, and matches, and cartridges, and gold, everything, everything to make us kings of the country, Mac! And they’re ours—ours as surely as if we had ’em in our hands now.” “I dinna see it,” said MacGregor. “Pessimism again. How can Moir and his gang get out of their camp?” “Up-stream, by the creek, of course.” “Any other way?” “There’s the way we came—but they do not know that.” “Correct, and when we’ve plugged up that single exit they can’t get away from us, Mac, and then we’ve got ’em!” MacGregor’s eyes lighted up, then he grew dour again. “We have got ’em, if we plug up the river, I see,” he admitted, “but when we have got them, what good does it do us? What are you going to do, then?” “That’s the surprise, Mac; I won’t tell even you.” He looked swiftly for a way up the rock walls and found one. “The first question is: Do you think you can climb after me up that crevice there?” “I could climb through hell and back again if it would help in getting Shanty Moir.” “All right. I can’t quite give you hell, but I’ll give Shanty Moir an imitation of it before he’s much older. Come on. We’ve got some work to do before it gets dark.” He led the way into the crevice he had marked for the climb up from the hole and boosted MacGregor up before him. It was slow, hard work, but MacGregor’s weak hold slipped often, and he came slipping down upon Reivers’ shoulders. In the end Reivers impatiently pulled him down, took him on his back and crawled up, and with a laugh rolled himself and his burden in the snow on top of the cliffs. A few rods away smoke was rising through the opening above Moir’s camp, and at the sight of it MacGregor’s numbed faculties came to life. “Lemme go, man!” he pleaded as Reivers caught him as he staggered toward the opening. “It’s my chance, man. I can kill the cur with a rock from up here.” “Save your strength; I’ve got use for it,” said Reivers. “Can you walk? All right. Come on, then, and don’t try to get near that gap.” Taking MacGregor by the hand he led the way carefully around the big opening till they came to the opposite side of the mass of rocks, where the creek entered the tunnel by which Moir reached his camp. Crawling and slipping, they made their way down until they stood beside the bed of the stream. “Now to work, Mac,” said Reivers, and seizing a rock bore it to the tunnel’s mouth and dropped it into the water. “Aye, aye!” chuckled MacGregor, as he understood the significance of this move. “We’ll wall the curs in.”