"Hold on tight, Skinny," I called. "We are coming."
It did not take us long to get there, but when we came opposite to where he was hanging we could not reach him, and the log was too slippery to walk on.
"Can't you work yourself along the tree?" I asked. "We can't reach, and even if we could walk out I don't see how we'd ever get back."
He shook his head in despair.
"I can hardly hold on at all," he told us. "I'll have to let go in a minute, if you don't do something. Get the rope. You always want a rope."
I hadn't thought of the rope which we have kept in the cave since the time I told about, when the flood came near drowning us.
Then Bill, being corporal, pulled himself together.
"Run to the cave for the rope," said he, "while I hold him."
Before we could say a word or stop him, he straddled the tree and began to work his way out, hitching himself along with his hands.
"Run," he yelled again, when he saw us looking with pale faces. "Skinny saved me and I'll save him, if it takes a leg."