Part 3 (1/2)

”Hold on, Sam, where are you going? The cliff is over in that direction!” he yelled suddenly.

”I--I know it!” came back the alarming answer. ”But I can't stop myself!”

”He can't stop himself!” repeated Dora.

”Oh, stop him somebody, before he goes over the cliff!”

”Let go of the line!” shouted d.i.c.k. ”Don't go any closer to the cliff!”

”I--I can't let go! The line is fast around my wrist!” gasped poor Sam. ”Oh, dear, it's cutting me like a knife!”

”He's in a mess,” came from Frank. ”If he isn't careful he'll go over the cliff, as sure as he's born!”

”Throw yourself down!” went on d.i.c.k, and, leaving his kite in Hans Mueller's care, he ran after his brother.

By this time Sam had gained a few bushes which grew but a dozen feet away from the edge of the cliff, that at this point was nearly forty feet in height. With his right hand held a painful prisoner, he clutched at the bushes with his left.

”I've got the bushes, but I can't hold on long!” he panted, as d.i.c.k came close. ”Help me, quick!”

Scarcely had the words left his mouth when the bushes came up by the roots and poor Sam fell over on his side. Then came another strong puff of wind, and he was dragged to the very edge of the rocky ledge!

”I'm going!” he screamed, when, making a mighty leap, d.i.c.k caught him by the foot.

”Catch the rock--anything!” cried the older brother. ”If you don't you'll be killed!”

”Save me!” was all poor Sam could say. ”Oh, d.i.c.k, don't let me go over!”

”I'll do my best, Sam,” was d.i.c.k's answer, and he held on like grim death.

By this time half a dozen boys were running to the scene. Dora Stanhope followed, and as she came up she pulled a tiny penknife from her pocket.

”Can't I cut the line with this?” she asked, timidly, as she pushed her way to d.i.c.k's side.

”Yes, Yes; cut it!” moaned Sam. ”Oh, my wrist is almost cut in two!”

Stooping low, Dora sawed away at the kite line, which was as taut as a string on a ba.s.s fiddle. Suddenly there was a loud snap and the cord parted. Sam and d.i.c.k fell back from the edge of the cliff, while the entangled kites soared away for parts unknown.

”Thank Heaven you cut the line, Dora!” said d.i.c.k, who was the first to recover from the excitement of the situation. He saw that Dom was trembling like a leaf, and he hastened to her support, but she pushed him away and pointed to Sam.

”Don't mind me--I am all right, d.i.c.k,” she said. ”Go care for poor Sam. See how his wrist is bleeding! Oh, how dreadful!”

”Here is my handkerchief; he had better bind it up with that,”

said Grace Laning, as she offered the article.

”We'll wash the wound first,” put in Frank, and raced off for some water. Soon he returned with his stiff hat full, and the cut on Sam's wrist was tenderly washed by the Laning girls, who then bound it up with the skill of a hospital surgeon.

The kite-flying continued for the balance of the afternoon. But Sam and d.i.c.k had had enough of it, and, along with Tom, they took a stroll along the lake front with Dora Stanhope and Grace and Nellie. Of course both boys and girls talked a whole lot of nonsense, yet all enjoyed the walk very much.

”This is the spot where they abducted me,” s.h.i.+vered Dora, as they came to the old boathouse. ”Oh, what a dreadful time that was, to be sure!”