No biggie, I reasoned, looking down at it. It’s not going anywhere. Then I got to thinking. If Scott texted me and I didn’t respond, he might fear the worst, come to investigate, and needlessly mess up both his hunt and mine. And might not invite me back. So I bit the bullet, left my bow and other gear hanging, climbed back down and back up again, by which time I’d climbed and descended a total of 78 feet—104 once I came down at dusk.