She jumped up and went to the pony. Her rope—she would no more think of traveling without it than would one of the Sunset punchers—was coiled at the saddlebow.
Running back to the verge of the bluff she planted her feet on a firm boulder and dropped the coil into the depths. In a moment it was in the hands of the man below.
“Over your head and shoulders!” she cried.
“You can never hold me!” he called back, faintly.
“You do as you’re told!” she returned, in a severe tone. “I’ll hold you—don’t you fear.”
She had already looped her end of the rope over the limb of a tree that stood rooted upon the brink of the bluff. With such a purchase she would be able to hold all the rope itself would hold.
“Ready!” she called down to him.
“All right! Here I swing!” was the reply.
Leaning over the brink, rather breathless, it must be confessed, the girl from Sunset Ranch saw him swing out of the top of the tree.
The tree-top was all of seventy feet from its roots. If he slipped now he would suffer a fall that surely would kill him.