CHAPTER XXIV.
THE CLOCK IN THE SKY.
"Oh! Thad!"
Bob unconsciously gave utterance to this low, bubbling cry as he felt the ground slipping from under him, and his eyes looking down into an inky void. Then something clutched hold of him, and his downward progress was stayed. Thad had shot out a hand, and grasped his chum by one of his legs, at the same time bracing himself for the shock.
This he did in the twinkling of an eye, dropping his gun, and with that hand laying hold of a sapling that, fortunately, chanced to be within easy reach.
"Careful, don't kick more than you can help, Bob," he remarked, as coolly as he possibly could, though a sensation akin to horror swept over him immediately he had acted. "I've got a good grip on you, and my other hand is holding on to a stout little sapling, so we just can't go down. Now work yourself back, inch by inch, as well as you can. Yo-heave-o! here you come! Another try, Bob! That gave us quite some distance. Ready to make it again? Why, this is easy. Here you are now, altogether boys, with a will!"
And after half a dozen of these concerted pulls and backward movements, Bob found that he had reached a spot where he could take care of himself.
"Whew! that was what I call a close call!" he muttered. "I wonder, now, just how far down I'd have had to go, if you hadn't been clever enough to grab me just in time?"
"We're not going to bother our heads about that, Bob," replied the other, quickly; "only please go a bit slower. We won't make any time, if we have to stop, and go through that circus stunt every little while. And Bob, it might happen that I'd lose my grip, and either let you go down, or there'd be two of us take the drop. Does it pay to try and make speed at such a terrible risk?"