I was awakened from my revery by hearing George call in a low voice to Frances, telling her to fasten the ends of the leathers to a bedpost or a heavy piece of furniture, and asking her if she could come down hand under hand. She answered that she could and took the end of the reins from Betty. After a minute or two spent by Frances back in the room, she reappeared, tossed her cloak down to us, climbed out the window, and stood for a moment beside Betty on the lower window cap. I heard Betty encouraging her, and presently Frances began her descent, reaching the ground safely. George would have been demonstrative, but I interrupted him, saying:—
"Be ready to help me catch Betty in case she falls!"
Betty started down, but George called to her, telling her to climb into the room, loosen the reins, and throw them out.
"But how shall I go down?" asked Betty, whose nerve was deserting her.
"You must come down as you climbed up—by the vines," returned George.
Betty climbed in at the window, and presently the leathers fell at our feet. In a moment she reappeared, put one foot out the window, hesitated, and called to me:—
"I'm afraid, Baron Ned. It seems so far, looking down."
George started toward the coach with Frances, leaving me and one of the drivers to care for the girl who had saved our expedition from failure.
I could help Betty only by encouraging her, so I spoke softly: "Be brave,
Betty. Go slowly. Don't lose your head."
"It is not my head I fear to lose; it is my footing," she answered, sitting on the window-sill, one foot hanging outside.