But from Tom’s ejaculations of delight it was clear that from my former position it was visible to him also.  “Jack,” he cried, as he turned and wrung my hand—­“Jack, you and I can never complain of our luck again.  Now heap up a few stones where we are standing.  That’s right.  Now we must fix my sign-post firmly in at the top.  There!  It would take a strong wind to blow that down; and we only need it to hold out till morning.  O Jack, my boy, to think that only yesterday we were talking of becoming clerks, and you saying that no man knew what was awaiting him, too!  By Jove, Jack, it would make a good story!”

By this time we had firmly fixed the perpendicular stick in between the two large stones; and Tom bent down and peered along the horizontal one.  For fully a quarter of an hour he was alternately raising and depressing it, until at last, with a sigh of satisfaction, he fixed the prop into the angle, and stood up.  “Look along, Jack,” he said.  “You have as straight an eye to take a sight as any man I know of.”

I looked along.  There beyond the farther sight was the ruddy, scintillating speck, apparently at the end of the stick itself, so accurately had it been adjusted.

“And now, my boy,” said Tom, “let’s have some supper and a sleep.  There’s nothing more to be done to-night; but we’ll need all our wits and strength to-morrow.  Get some sticks and kindle a fire here, and then we’ll be able to keep an eye on our signal-post, and see that nothing happens to it during the night.”

Well, sir, we kindled a fire, and had supper with the Sasassa demon’s eye rolling and glowing in front of us the whole night through.  Not always in the same place, though; for after supper, when I glanced along the sights to have another look at it, it was nowhere to be seen.  The information did not, however, seem to disturb Tom in any way.  He merely remarked, “It’s the moon, not the thing, that has shifted;” and coiling himself up, went to sleep.

By early dawn we were both up, and gazing along our pointer at the cliff; but we could make out nothing save the one dead, monotonous, slaty surface, rougher perhaps at the part we were examining than elsewhere, but otherwise presenting nothing remarkable.

“Now for your idea, Jack!” said Tom Donahue, unwinding a long thin cord from round his waist.  “You fasten it, and guide me while I take the other end.”  So saying, he walked off to the base of the cliff, holding one end of the cord, while I drew the other taut, and wound it round the middle of the horizontal stick, passing it through the sight at the end.  By this means I could direct Tom to the right or left, until we had our string stretching from the point of attachment, through the sight, and on to the rock, which it struck about eight feet from the ground.  Tom drew a chalk circle of about three feet diameter round the spot, and then called to me to come and join him.  “We’ve managed this business together, Jack,” he said,