past, and he was ready to contribute to the contents of the fat notebook
whenever the opportunity occurred.

"All good people in this party," he cried. "That's mighty plain."

The Professor dived for his lead pencil. He had a scent for copy that a
New York reporter would have envied.

"How is that, Soma?" he spluttered.

"Wizard men say so," grinned the Kanaka. "Wizard men tell much truth."

"But what did the wizard men say?"

"They say that only the bad boys can slip," answered Soma. "No good men
either. Big hole just for bad people. That what witch doctors say long,
long time ago. They call it Ledge of Death."

The Professor's pencil raced madly across the paper, and Holman looked
back at the black depths with a grim smile upon his clean-cut features.

"I suppose there have been exceptions," he remarked quietly. "There are
exceptions to every rule, and I suppose an occasional bad egg escaped a
fall into this abyss in spite of the wizard men's prophecy."

Leith looked up quickly, and he flushed angrily when he found that the
young fellow's eyes were upon him. Barbara Herndon gave a little
hysterical laugh, and the Professor stopped writing and looked around
inquiringly as if he was in doubt whether he had missed something of
importance.