Part 19 (1/2)

”Some one is over the edge,” answered Harriet almost breathlessly.

”Quick! Find out who it is.”

”It's Tommy!” screamed Margery Brown.

Miss Elting sprang toward the edge of the shelf.

”Stop!” thundered the guide. ”Careful! Don't rush. Take it easy.

All the rest of you stay back. You go cautiously to the edge, Miss Elting, and find out just what shape she's in.”

Grubb gave his commands in a quick, business-like tone; at the same time he removed his belt and unfastened the girls' ropes.

Margery began to scream again. Jane grasped and shook her.

”Stop that! Tommy's doing enough howling for the whole party,” she exclaimed.

Tommy's cries were all-sufficient--heart-rending, in fact. Harriet motioned to Jane to come and a.s.sist in holding the rope. Jane responded promptly.

”May I go and help?” questioned Harriet eagerly.

”Yes. It's a good idea. Keep her quiet if you can,” urged Miss Elting. ”She is likely to saw the rope in two at the rate she is floundering about. I hope her belt is strong enough to hold.”

”Oh my stars, what a mess!” groaned Jane McCarthy.

”It's worse than that,” answered Ja.n.u.s, but he did not explain just what danger threatened the screaming little girl.

Harriet turned the rope over to her companion and hurried to the edge of the shelf, where she stretched herself on the rock with her head protruding over. What she saw was an object that resembled a great spider suspended from a silken thread. The spider was dangling in the air, with arms and legs working frantically. The poor little spider, in this instance Tommy Thompson, was slowly turning from side to side, clawing frantically at the smooth side of the mountain when her hands got into position where she could touch it. Miss Elting was trying to soothe her. Harriet adopted a different policy.

”Tommy!” she cried sharply.

”Oh, thave me! Thave me!” wailed the little tow-headed girl.

”Do you want to drop clear to the bottom?” demanded Harriet.

”No, oh, no! Thave me! I'll be good. I'll--”

”You'll be down there in a heap if you don't stop struggling. Listen to me! Are you going to stop that screaming and do something for yourself, or are we to let you hang there until to-morrow morning?”

continued Harriet.

”Yeth, oh, yeth! I'll be good. I'll do whatever you tell me. But thave me. Pleathe thave me!” sobbed the unhappy little Tommy.

”Stop clawing. Let your body hang limp. Don't make a move, and keep quiet. You confuse us. Remember, if you struggle you are likely to pull us over with you. I am going to get something; then I shall try to pull you up. Hazel and Margery, stay close to Miss Elting. Miss Elting, will you look after them while I go to hunt a stick?”'

”Come over here by me, girls,” commanded the guardian in response to the request. ”Now, stand perfectly still. Tommy's life may depend upon your doing only what you are told. A Meadow-Brook Girl is a sort of soldier, and a soldier is not a good soldier unless he can take and obey orders.”

Hazel was trembling a little, Margery a great deal, but the words of the guardian served to quiet and steady both girls.

Harriet came running toward them, carrying a round stick, a piece from a small sapling that the guide had picked up for firewood. This she cautiously slipped under the rope at the edge of the shelf, prying the rope up a little in order to do so, thus sending Tommy into a fresh outburst of terror when she felt the added movement of the rope.

”Miss Elting, I think you had better manage the stick. You are not likely to lose your presence of mind. Hazel and Margery may help me pull Tommy up. Be sure not to let the rope drag over the sharp edge of the stone, or we may lose her.”