“These lanterns may belong to the profession of detectives and burglars, but I’ve found them the most useful articles a cliff-climber can own.  They are different from other lamps and torches; you can control the one ray of light and indicate your path without any trouble whatever.”

This was true, as the guide demonstrated, and his party walked along the narrow ledge without any fear of being precipitated over; all it required was a good eye and a steady nerve, and they possessed these necessary qualifications.

The guide at length came to a halt, and said: 

“You stand here and I’ll get my bridge.”

He proceeded along alone, but soon returned with two saplings, which he had strung together, and of which he had made a rope ladder.

Desmond was greatly interested, and watched the guide as he threw his ladder across the intervening abyss, and then he said: 

“It will take a little nerve to crawl over, but once over we are all safe, and I’ve got a storehouse over there.  I prepared this place with a great deal of patience and labor.  We can spend two or three days here.  I know you will enjoy it, and we can take a good long rest.  I will go over first and then hold the light so you two can follow.”

Desmond glanced at Brooks, and asked: 

“Will you risk it?”

“Yes, I will, lad; I am not the fellow I was about six months ago; I can climb a steeple now.”

The guide went over, creeping across.  The saplings bent under his weight and made a downward curve, so that when he attempted so ascend on the opposite side it was a climb up, but with the ropes made of woven prairie grass and sticks and boughs he easily ascended.  He had carried his lantern with him, and he flashed its light across his bridge and asked, “Who will come next?”

“You go,” said Desmond to Brooks.

The tramp did not hesitate, but started to crawl over the oddly constructed bridge, and he did so as well as the guide had done.  Then Desmond crossed and the instant all hands were over the guide took up his bridge stowed it away, and said: 

“When we cross back it will be in the daytime, and much harder.”

“Much harder in the daytime?”

“Yes.”

“I should think it would be easier.”

The guide laughed and said: 

“It might appear so, but in the daytime you will realize just what you are doing.  You will see the dark abyss beneath you, and when the bridge sways downward your heart will be in your throat, I tell you.  At night, however, you do not know just what you are doing.”

Desmond saw the truth of what the guide said, and observed that the man was quite a philosopher.

“Now let me go in advance,” said Creedon.

He led the way and soon turned into what he called Creedon Street.  It was a broad opening with a solid flooring, and walls of rock on either side—­the most singular and remarkable rock conformation that either Brooks or Desmond had ever seen.  The guide walked right ahead boldly; he evidently knew that there were no rents down which they might plunge.