The
presence of this told Hugh plainly the nature of the task that
awaited him. Someone had undoubtedly fallen over the brink, and was,
even then, hanging on desperately to some jutting rock or bush that
represented the only hope of safety from a serious fall. He threw
himself down and thrust his head out over the edge. What Hugh saw
was enough to give any boy a thrill of horror. Some ten feet below
the top a human figure sprawled, kicking with his legs in the
endeavor to find a brace for his feet. He was clinging to a bush
that seemed to be growing from the face of the precipice, and which
Hugh could see was slowly but surely giving way, one root after
another losing its grip in the soil and rocky crevices.

Hugh recognized the imperiled boy instantly, though utterly amazed at
his discovery; he could not understand for the life of him how Claude
Jardine, of all fellows in Scranton, could be placed in such a
dreadful predicament.

But Hugh did not waste a single precious second in trying to solve
that puzzle; it could be all made plain after he had managed to save
the poor chap.

"Stop kicking, and keep perfectly still, Claude!" he instantly called.

"But it's going to give way, and let me drop!" wailed the terrified
boy.

"It'll do that all the sooner if you keep moving as you are," Hugh
told him sharply, with the tone of authority that one accustomed to
command might use. "I'm coming down after you, so don't be afraid.
Can you hold on just ten seconds more?"

"I'll try to, but, oh! hurry, please!" came the trembling answer.

Already Hugh was passing over the edge. He took care not to make a
false movement, for the precipice was all of forty feet in depth, and
a fall on the rocks below was bound to be a serious matter.

To lower himself to where the imperiled boy clung he had to take
advantage of numerous projecting points of rock that offered him a
foothold, or a place where he could hang on with his hands. Hugh was
as nimble as any boy in Scranton, which fact proved of great
advantage to him just then. Had it been otherwise, he might have
himself fallen, and there would then have been a double tragedy.

Somehow, through Hugh's mind flashed the memory of how Claude's
doting mother had always, on every occasion, condemned all athletic
exercises that were intended to build up the muscles, and give new
power to the body. It seemed the irony of fate that the life of her
precious boy was now going to