“No danger of that,” declared Bart. “They’re off to one side. I’m afraid they’re badly hurt, though.”
“Somebody go for a doctor!” urged Fenn.
“I will,” volunteered Jim Nelson, who had the reputation of being the laziest boy in the town of Darewell. Perhaps he was afraid of being asked to help haul the auto back from the perilous position.
“Telephone for ’em!” called Frank, knowing Jim’s usual slowness, and realizing that the lazy youth would welcome this method of summoning the medical men.
“Tell ’em to come to my house,” supplemented Fenn. “We will carry the man and girl there.”
“Good idea,” commented Frank. “You’ve got more room than any of these houses near here,” for, in the immediate vicinity of the cliff there were only small cottages, and some of them were unoccupied.
“But how are we going to get ’em up?” asked Fenn.
By this time a large crowd had gathered. Some had brought ropes, and there were all sorts of suggestions as to how the rescue should be effected.
“I’ll get them; or at least I’ll go down and put a rope around them, so they can be hauled up,” suddenly declared Frank. “I know how to reach that ledge. There’s not much danger. Where’s a rope?”
Several were soon produced, some neighboring clothes lines being confiscated. It seemed that all the crowd needed was some one to give orders. In a few minutes, with a rope tied around his waist Frank was being lowered over the cliff. Willing hands let him down until he was on the ledge. Then, having fastened the rope about the form of the unconscious young woman, padding it with his coat, so the strands would not cut her, he gave the signal to haul up. There was a cheer as the body was laid gently down on the grass at the top of the cliff, and some one called: