"I—I know it!" came back the alarming answer. "But I can't stop myself!"
"He can't stop himself!" repeated Dora.
"Oh, stop him somebody, before he goes over the cliff!"
"Let go of the line!" shouted Dick. "Don't go any closer to the cliff!"
"I—I can't let go! The line is fast around my wrist!" gasped poor Sam. "Oh, dear, it's cutting me like a knife!"
"He's in a mess," came from Frank. "If he isn't careful he'll go over the cliff, as sure as he's born!"
"Throw yourself down!" went on Dick, and, leaving his kite in Hans
Mueller's care, he ran after his brother.
By this time Sam had gained a few bushes which grew but a dozen feet away from the edge of the cliff, that at this point was nearly forty feet in height. With his right hand held a painful prisoner, he clutched at the bushes with his left.
"I've got the bushes, but I can't hold on long!" he panted, as
Dick came close. "Help me, quick!"
Scarcely had the words left his mouth when the bushes came up by the roots and poor Sam fell over on his side. Then came another strong puff of wind, and he was dragged to the very edge of the rocky ledge!