"What with, an aeroplane?"
"With hobnail boots," said the other.
"I guess they had pretty good teeth and finger nails, also," Frank put in.
A half mile more, and the trail ended at a great mass of debris and broken rocks piled up in the shape of a fan at the base of the head wall.
"This is called the Fan," said the stout man. "Here's where the job begins. Goodbye, boys."
"Oh, let's go up a way!" cried Art. "If they can do it, we can."
"Sure," said Peanut, as he saw the two men begin to climb carefully over the broken fragments of the Fan.
"Oh, please!" the rest cried.
"Well, just a short way," Mr. Rogers reluctantly consented, "if you'll agree to come down when I give the order. We have no ropes, and we are none of us used to rock climbing. I won't take the risk. If we had ropes and proper spiked staffs, it would be different."
The Scouts, with a shout, started up behind the two men, who had now ceased their rapid walking, and were going very slowly and carefully. The boys soon found out why. The footing on the rocky debris of the Fan was extremely treacherous, and you had to keep your eyes on every step, and test your footing.
