time the fellows were all undressing. Poor Pee-wee was so
excited and nervous he just tore his shirt off.

"It's too late," Warde said--awful calm. "I'm slipping. These blamed
weeds don't hold. Don't you fellows worry. Maybe I'll land----"

We could see well enough that his head and shoulders were over the edge.
It was just a case of one root coming up and his grabbing another one,
and slipping a little each time. In about another half a minute he'd
have only his legs to hold on with. I haven't got much use for lifelines
made of old clothes. They're all right in stories but where there are a
lot of knots fastening together different kinds of clothes, one knot is
pretty sure to give way. The only kind of line we could make now was a
pretty clumsy kind of a one and it would take us at least ten minutes to
get it made.

By that time Warde would be....

CHAPTER XXX

A GOOD TURN

"There isn't time to do this," Westy said.

"Well, we'll do it whether there's time or not," I shot back at him.
"Hustle, all of you, get your clothes off. There's time until he
disappears. Two of you fellows follow the hill north and go down at the
nearest place you can get down. There isn't any bee-line now. No, don't
you go, Pee-wee--Dorry and Will go. Here, take my scarf, you've got your
own, too--never mind looking at the tree," I said. "Here, take this
shirt, too. You know how to stop blood flowing, don't you? Put a stick
under the bandage and wind it round. _Hurry up, he's slipping._ We can't
get this blamed thing ready in time. Do what you can for him down there.
Hurry...."

It was funny, but as soon as they started I just couldn't help looking
over there to the ridge at that big tree that had guided us all day.
Kind of, I wondered if it knew the trouble we were in--and that after
all we wouldn't get there. But I only thought of it for about a second.

Down there on the ledge Warde was almost half over. He couldn't use his
hands to hold on with now, but he just squeezed the bushes between his
feet. He was slipping over slowly.

"Hang on," I shouted; "we're hustling, we'll throw you a line."

"_Look, look!_" one of the fellows who had just started away shouted.
"_Oh, look!_"

I just clapped my hands over my eyes for a moment; I _couldn't_ look. I
just couldn't. I knew what it meant. My hand was trembling and my heart
was just choking me. "Did you--did you hear him--land?" I asked.

"Over there--east," some one said.