“Kick off your boots,” Jerry said in a low voice; “you’ll be able to cling to the knots better in stocking feet.”
“Sort of an anti-climax.” Dick’s large brown eyes laughed through the shell-rimmed glasses as he removed his boots. “There, now I do the renowned disappearing act. I’d feel more heroic if I were about to rescue someone.”
“Dick isn’t the least bit afraid, is he, Jerry?” Mary asked in a whispered voice as though she did not want the boy who had gone over the ledge to be conscious of the fear that she felt.
“He’s all right,” Jerry reported a second later. “He’s going down the rope as nimbly as a monkey.”
“Will there be room on the edge of that crevice for him to stand when he does get down?” was Mary’s next question.
There was a long moment’s silence, then Jerry turned his head and smiled reassuringly. “He’s down! Oh, yes, there’s ten feet or more for him to walk on. He’s got hold of the front wheel of the old coach.” The cowboy’s voice changed to a warning shout, “I say, Dick, down there! Don’t try to get aboard! The whole thing might crumble and take you to the bottom of that pit.”
The girls could hear a faint shout from below. Dick evidently had assured Jerry that he would be cautious.
“I wish we could come over where you are, Jerry,” Dora said. “I’d like to watch Dick.”
“Stay where you are, please.” The order, without the last word, would have sounded abrupt. “Er—I may need your help with the rope. Keep alert.”
“I couldn’t be alerter if I tried,” Mary said in a low voice to her companion. “Every nerve in my whole body is so tense I’m afraid something will snap or—”