Without a moment's hesitation Wetzel swung himself over the ledge.
Joe followed suit. At one end of this lower ledge grew a hardy shrub
of the ironwood species, and above it a scrub pine leaned
horizontally out over the ravine. Laying his rifle down, Wetzel
grasped a strong root and cautiously slid over the side. When all of
his body had disappeared, with the exception of his sinewy fingers,
they loosened their hold on the root, grasped the rifle, and dragged
it down out of sight. Quietly, with similar caution, Joe took hold
of the same root, let himself down, and when at full length swung
himself in under the ledge. His feet found a pocket in the cliff.
Letting go of the root, he took his rifle, and in another second was
safe.
Of all Wetzel's retreats--for he had many--he considered this one
the safest. The cavern under the ledge he had discovered by
accident. One day, being hotly pursued by Shawnees, he had been
headed off on this cliff, and had let himself down on the ledge,
intending to drop from it to the tops of the trees below. Taking
advantage of every little aid, he hung over by means of the shrub,
and was in the act of leaping when he saw that the cliff shelved
under the ledge, while within reach of his feet was the entrance to
a cavern. He found the cave to be small with an opening at the back
into a split in the rock.
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