Part 9 (1/2)

”No rope,” he answered, as if it were a matter of no moment.

”I'll get a lariat. That surely ought to be long enough,” said Walter, darting away to the ponies.

”Come back. There's no lariats there. They're all in the pack down at the bottom of the canyon,” shouted Ned.

”Then we're helpless,” groaned the Professor.

”No, we're not. I'll find a way to get the boy out,” announced Ned, in a voice of stern determination. There was no laughter in his face now. Purpose was written in every line of it.

”Come here, you lazy redskin, you,” he commanded, which summons Eagle-eye obeyed reluctantly.

”What are you going to do?” demanded the Professor.

”Help!” came a wail from the unhappy Chunky.

”We're coming. Keep quiet. Don't you move,” admonished Walter.

”I'll get a nosebleed if I have to hang here this way.”

”You'll get worse than that if you don't get a grip on yourself and keep quiet. I'm going to form a human chain, the way we used to do to get pond lilies at home. Professor, lie down there, while I tie your feet to the tree. We will use you for an anchor.”

In a trice the Professor's feet were made fast to the tree with the remaining piece of rope that had broken off short.

”Down on your stomach, Eagle-eye!” commanded the resourceful Ned, giving the redskin a jerk that sent him sprawling. ”Take hold of his ankles and hang on, Professor. You next, Walter. Good. Now grab me by the ankles, while I go over head first.”

But Ned's carefully laid plans failed. The human chain was not long enough to reach.

”Pull back, quick!” he ordered.

The return, however, was less easily executed, and perspiring, weak and trembling, Ned finally succeeded in scrambling to the cliff, with the aid of those behind him.

”What can we do now?” begged the Professor, greatly agitated.

”Try it another way, that's all. We've simply got to do it. Sit down and brace your feet against that boulder near the edge, there, Professor.”

This Professor Zepplin did quickly. Walter dropped down in front of him, and next came the Shawnee and Ned Rector, each, save the Professor, sitting on his knees, facing the edge of the cliff.

”Now each one grab the ankles of the one ahead of him,” directed Ned.

As they did so, the sitting men and boys, still doubled up, let themselves fall forward on their faces.

Slowly the line lengthened out like the unwinding of the coils of a serpent, Ned Rector slipping slowly over the brink, the red man squirming after him, until both were clear of the edge, hanging head down.

”I've got him,” came up the m.u.f.fled voice of Ned. ”But I've got a rush of blood to the head. Pull now! Pull for all you're worth, all of you. If you slip we're all gone. Be careful.”

His words of caution were not needed. Each realized the responsibility that rested upon his shoulders, and each was bending every nerve and muscle in his body to the task.

Eagle-eye himself was urged to renewed efforts by the certain knowledge that if he failed he would go to join the ”evil spirits” in the rapid waters below.

”Wait a minute. I want to turn him around. He's a dead weight this way and I'm afraid we won't get him over,” cautioned Ned.