“Oh, Hiram Strong!” cried Lettie. “You don't expect us to walk tightrope, do you?” and she began to giggle.
“No. I want you to unfasten the end of the rope. I want it clear—that's it,” said Hiram. “And it's long enough, I can see.”
“For what?” asked Sister.
“Wait and you'll see,” returned the young farmer, hastily coiling the rope again.
He hung it over his shoulder and then started to climb the big sycamore. He could go up the bole of this leaning tree very quickly, for the huge grapevine gave him a hand-hold all the way.
“Whatever are you going to do?” cried Lettie Bronson, looking up at him, as did the other girls.
“Now,” said Hiram, in the first small crotch of the tree, which was almost directly over the stranded launch, “if you girls have any pluck at all, I can get you ashore, one by one.”
“What do you mean for us to do, Hiram?” repeated Lettie.
The young farmer quickly fashioned a noose at the end of the line—not a slipnoose, for that would tighten and hurt anybody bearing upon it. This he dropped down to the boat and Lettie caught it.
“Get your head and shoulders through that noose, Miss Bronson,” he commanded. “Let it come under your arms. I will lift you out of the boat and swing you back and forth—there's none of you so heavy that I can't do this, and if you wet your feet a little, what's the odds?”