At last, to lie within an arm’s throw of it, laughing, weeping, hysterical, panting with exhaustion.
Then crawling, inch by inch, painfully, groping toward that tiny aperture!
At last, face close to it, the pungent breath of the woods drawn deep down into aching lungs!
Ruth rested for a while, gathering her depleted forces for the last great effort, to drag herself up and through the opening.
Tired fingers groping, Ruth at last managed to gain a hold on the roots and soft dirt about the edge of the hole. But her strength was gone. The fearful knowledge came to her that she could not, unaided, draw herself out of that dreadful place. Her fingers were growing numb.
Suddenly the blue of the sky above her was blotted out. Still clinging to the edge of the hole with what little strength was left her, Ruth looked up.
A face was bending over her—the face of a girl on which was written surprise and horror.
“Oh, help me!” begged Ruth. “I can’t hold on——”
“Give me your hand,” commanded the girl briskly. “Hold on with one hand and try to help yourself while I pull. Here we go!”
There followed a heart-breaking moment of slipping and pulling when it seemed that they both must fall into the pit together.