All three of the boys laid hold of Darrel, gathered him up in their arms and started carefully down the slope. The colonel followed, limping a little as he came.
[CHAPTER XXXV.]
A RIFT IN THE CLOUDS.
Lenning had disappeared from the foot of the slope by the time the little party from above had brought their burden to the water’s edge. It was just as well for all concerned that he had not lingered.
Darrel was laid down with a rolled-up coat under his head for a pillow. The boys scooped up water in their hands and allowed it to trickle over the white, unconscious face.
“That was about as nervy a piece of work as I ever saw a fellow do,” remarked Clancy, on his knees at Darrel’s side.
“That’s the sort of a chap Curly is,” spoke up Ballard.
“You’re right, Pink,” said Merriwell shortly.
The colonel’s face was a study. Not much could be learned from it, however, regarding the state of his feelings.
“How is it,” he asked, “that all of you happened to be around at the time I needed help? Did you and your friends come with Ellis, Merriwell?”