It was an easy matter to reach the particular bough that I wanted, but then came the tug. I was half-inclined to give up the whole thing and go down to the ground, but Ned kept egging me on so confidently that I determined to go through with it.
Straddling the limb, I took a firm hold with both hands in front of me, for no other boughs were close enough to be grasped, and thus inch by inch I moved cautiously forward.
The branch creaked and groaned, and at last began to bend in such an alarming fashion that I stopped short.
There was the club, not four feet away now, and far below I could see the quiet waters of the creek, wrinkling the reflected foliage as a dropping nut or stray leaf rippled the surface.
"You're nearly there, now," cried Ned, with hearty encouragement; "just a little more, Jack, and you'll have it.
"But the limb will break," I called down.
"No, it won't," he insisted, "don't be afraid."
That settled it. I wasn't afraid, and Ned should know it.
I took a firmer grip on the bough, and slid forward half a foot.
Crack, crack,—the big branch slowly began to split, and as I made a frantic effort to crawl back, a strange noise from the bushy part of the tree overhead turned my gaze upward.