“Bones，maybe，ortheruinsoftheirtown，orpottery，orsomeoftheiridols。Theremightbe’mostanythingupthere。Anyhow，Iwanttosee。“
“Surenobodyelsehasbeenupthere，Tip？“Arthurasked。
“Deadsure。Hardlyanybodyevergoesdownthere。Somehunterstriedtocutstepsintherockonce，buttheydidn’tgethigherthanamancanreach。TheBluff’sallredgranite，andUncleBillthinksit’sabouldertheglaciersleft。It’saqueerplace，anyhow。Nothingbutcactusanddesertforhundredsofmiles，andyetrightundertheBluffthere’sgoodwaterandplentyofgrass。
That’swhythebisonusedtogodownthere。“
Suddenlyweheardascreamaboveourfire，andjumpeduptoseeadark，slimbirdfloatingsouthwardfaraboveus——awhoopingcrane，weknewbyhercryandherlongneck。Werantotheedgeoftheisland，hopingwemightseeheralight，butshewaveredsouthwardalongtherivercourseuntilwelosther。TheHasslerboysdeclaredthatbythelookoftheheavensitmustbeaftermidnight，sowethrewmorewoodonourfire，putonourjackets，andcurleddowninthewarmsand。Severalofuspretendedtodoze，butIfancywewerereallythinkingaboutTip’sBluffandtheextinctpeople。Overinthewoodtheringdoveswerecallingmournfullytooneanother，andonceweheardadogbark，faraway。