Part 4 (1/2)

”Hurry!”

It seemed a long distance away--that faint reply to his hail.

”That you, Tad!”

”Y-e-s.”

”Where are you!”

”Here.”

”Where? I don't see you.”

”In the river. Just below the bend.”

Hurriedly dismounting and making a quick examination of the banks he discovered that they were so nearly straight up and down that it would be impossible to get his companions out at that point.

”I can't get you out here. You'll have to wait a few moments. Are you swimming?”

”No, I am holding to a rock. It's awful slippery and I'm freezing too.”

”All right. Is Stacy with you?”

”Yes, I've got him.”

”Good! Have courage! I'll be with you,” said Ned encouragingly.

”You'll have to hurry. I can't hold on much longer. The falls are just below here and if I have to let go it's all up with us.”

Ned had no need to be told that. He could almost feel the spray from the falls on his face, so close were they to him and their roar was loud in his ears, so that he was obliged to raise his voice in calling to his companions.

Leaping to the back of Bad-eye, Ned was off like a shot, tearing through the brush, headed toward camp. On the way he pa.s.sed Professor Zepplin and Walter, nearly running them down in his mad haste.

”Got a rope?” he shouted in pa.s.sing. ”No,” answered Walter. ”Then get one and hurry around the bend. You'll be needed there in a minute. I'm going down into the stream from the camp.”

The Professor, seeming to comprehend what Ned had in mind, turned and ran back to the camp.

Without an instant's hesitation, Ned Rector, upon reaching their camping place, put his pony at the bank where the two boys had gone over.

The little animal refused to take it. He bucked and the lad had a narrow escape from following where Tad and Chunky had gone a short time before.

”I've got to have a saddle. That's the only way I can stick on to drive him in, and we'll need it to hold to as well,” he decided.

Every moment was precious now. Whirling the animal about, Ned drove him into the thicket where the saddles lay folded against trees.

It was the work of seconds for him to leap off and throw the heavy saddle on Bad-eye's back. The boy worked with the speed and precision of a Gattling gun. Yet he groaned hopelessly when he realized that his delay might mean the death of two of his companions.

Professor Zepplin arrived at the camp just as Ned had finally cinched the girths and swung himself into the saddle.

”Where--where is he?” gasped the Professor, now breathing hard.