From beneath his very feet came a call for help!
Frank was astonished. He looked downward, clutching an upthrust limb to steady himself, but could see no one.
“Oh, Merriwell!” came the call.
“Hello!” he answered. “Who’s down there?”
“It is I—Bramwell.”
“Bramwell? What are you doing down there?”
“I’m stuck and I can’t get out. I’ve climbed part of the way out, but I can get no higher. Go on and finish the run, but come back for me afterward, for I think I’ll have to stay here.”
And now, peering into the gloom, Merry caught a glimpse of the gray face of Bramwell upturned some distance below. Evidently the fellow had fallen from the tree trunk in trying to cross.
“I’ll get you out now,” said Frank.
“Don’t you do it—don’t stop for it!” exclaimed the fellow below. “If you do Huntley will win the race.”