"As Ethan Tynes looked wistfully over the precipice, he started with a sudden surprise. There on the narrow ledge lay the dead turkey.
The sight sharpened Ethan's regrets. He had made a good shot, and he hated to relinquish his game. While he gazed in dismayed meditation, an idea began to kindle in his brain. Why could he not let himself down to the ledge by those long, strong vines that hung over the edge of the cliff?
It was risky, Ethan knew, terribly risky. But then,—if only the vines were strong!
He tried them again and again with all his might, selected several of the largest, grasped them hard and fast, and then slipped lightly off the crag.
He waited motionless for a moment. His movements had dislodged clods of earth and fragments of rock from the verge of the cliff, and until these had ceased to rattle about his head and shoulders he did not begin his downward journey.
Now and then as he went he heard the snapping of twigs, and again a branch would break, but the vines which supported him were tough and strong to the last. "

License information: nan
MPAA: G
Go to source: http://www.gutenberg.org/files/19721/19721-h/19721-h.htm