Mr. Brainerd leaned forward, and peering down into the dense shadow, fancied he saw the crouching figure going lower and lower, until the end of his support was reached.
The father was holding the vine, as if to steady it, when it suddenly jarred in his hand, and seemed to draw up as though relieved of a heavy weight.
Such was the fact; just the faintest possible thump reaching his ear at that moment: manifestly, it was caused by the feet of Fred Godfrey as he dropped lightly to the bottom.
A soft and barely audible "st, st!" followed, and told the truth that one of the little company at least had made the descent in safety.
The understanding was that Mr. Brainerd should be the next. He had already secured his gun to his back, so as to leave his arms free, and he now wrapped his legs about the sinuous support and gripped it tightly with his hands, saying not a word to his friends as he began sinking out of sight.
His descent was a different matter from that of his predecessor. He was not so strong and active, while his body was more bulky; in fact, Fred Godfrey, as he looked anxiously upward through the shadows, was oppressed by the misgiving that the vine would give way under the additional weight, and bring woful disaster.
But his father did better than was anticipated, even by himself. He blistered his fingers, and wrenched his muscles, but he went downward steadily, and without any break or noise, until he found the end of the vine in his grasp.
"It's only a short distance," whispered Fred, who was able to touch his hand; "let go."
The elder did as directed, and the next second stood erect beside his son, only slightly jarred by his leap.
"I'm relieved beyond expression," said Fred; "I knew the hardest task would be for you to get down."