“It’s plenty strong enough to hold all of us,” he announced to his two chums. “Come on out. I want it to bend down as much as possible.”
By this time the others understood the scheme which had entered our hero’s head. The tall tree was a wide-spreading one, and the branch he had selected bent over in the direction of the tree which was on fire. Soon the combined weight of the three engineers caused it to bend until the outer end was directly over the spot where the German aviator rested.
“Now you fellows get back a little and I’ll go forward,” said Dave. “As soon as I’ve got hold of him you go back farther yet, so that the weight of the four of us won’t crack the branch off.”
Phil and Roger understood, and as Dave went forward they retreated just enough so that the outer end of the branch might remain in practically the same position.
It was a perilous climb for the young sergeant, and no one realized this more than himself. Being directly over the branch where the German rested, he was likewise over that portion of the brushwood below which was on fire. The smoke was coming up thickly, choking and blinding him.
At last he was out to within three feet of the end of the limb. He had his legs around it firmly, and now he bent down and by teetering the limb just a trifle managed to get within distance of the fellow below.
The German aviator had continued to call for help in his own language. Now, as Dave drew closer, he heard the talk of the Americans and cried out in broken English:
“You safe me, blease! You safe me, blease!”
“I’ll do it if I can, Fritzie,” answered Dave. “Give me your hand.”
“I gif vun hand! Other arm broken!” gasped out the hurt airman.