"He'll stalk us on the way back!" "Us for the tree, then, until morning!" said Will.
"Sure!" I answered.

"And be shot out of it like crows out of a nest!" But Will had the right idea for all that.

He was merely getting at it in his own way.

After a little whispering we went to work with fevered fingers, stripping off the bloody bandages we had tied on the Greek's ribs--stripping off more of his clothes--then more of ours--tying them all into one--then skinning the mangled lion with the long knife that had really ended his career, tearing the hide into strips and knotting them each to each.

In twenty minutes we had a slippery, smeary, smelly rope of sorts.