“What the heck can we do?”
“Tie the lariats together,” Jim directed. That was but the work of a moment, then Bob put a weight on one end of it and threw it over.
“If he can grab it, we can give him a tow.” Jim nodded, so Bob leaned over again. “Come a little lower.” Her Highness obeyed, and with the help of the speaking tube, they at last managed to get the plane in proper position, and almost instantly there was a tug as the rope was caught. It was evident that since they had come to him the stranded man had been using his head, for he managed to keep from being dragged off the roof, and even made the end of the lariat fast to a rod that stuck out near the metal chimney.
“She’s coming,” Bob shouted—“Go easy or she’ll be banged to bits.”
Sturdily Her Highness taxied forward just as low as she could. Bob kept his eyes on the house they were towing, and several times he caught his breath sharply as a particularly heavy plank, a broken tree, or a drowned animal came thumping into it. As it got lighter, the boy was amazed to see that the roof held more than just the man, who had flung himself on his face, his body sprawled out flat as he kept a woman and a tiny baby from being jarred off.
“Oh, great guns,” Bob whistled.
“Throw off the line,” Jim directed. They were in the cove now, and already Mr. Fenton and several men were on the shore, while two strong young fellows were in the row boats, prepared to shove out and help. The waves battered them all angrily, but Her Highness had to soar up out of the way, and after a few minutes in the air where she waggled her wings gaily over her victory, she was brought down again, and the Flying Buddies hurried to learn about the man and his family.
“Are they all right, Aunt Belle?” Bob called as they went into the kitchen.
“Yes. Here, you hold the little fellow a minute, while I stir this.” She promptly dumped the baby into her nephew’s arms, and Jim grinned at his brother’s discomfort.
“Will it break, Mrs. Fenton?”