“Don’t you worry about me a single minute, boys,” the stout chum went on to say, in what was meant to be a firm and even buoyant tone as though he could see no reason for any undue anxiety.
That point having been settled in a satisfactory way, they began to prepare to make the descent. First Donald fastened the two lariats together in a fashion known particularly to cow-punchers. Then he made sure that the loop at the lower end ran free; after which he attached the other end to the crooked cedar that grew so close to the edge of the descent that it seemed to be there especially to serve their particular purpose on this occasion.
Adrian wanted to be the first to go down; but somehow Donald seemed to have assumed the position of master of ceremonies, and he also usurped that privilege as coolly as you please.
“When I get safe on that platform I’ll shake the rope twice,” he announced as he prepared to swing himself over the edge.
“That will mean for me to start down, I reckon?” asked Adrian.
“Yes, and be careful, please, old fellow; don’t
forget that a slip might throw you down all the way to the bottom,” Donald went on to say, a bit uneasily.
“Speak for yourself, Donald,” remarked the other, with a chuckle. “I like your nerve, to caution me when it’s you that goes about everything in such a hurry, you’re always apt to get in trouble. But it’s all right, Donald, I’ll hold tight; and be sure you do the same.”
Adrian shook the hand of his chum, as did also Billie, before the other swung over the edge, and began his downward journey.
It was all dark below him, even though fairly light above; but then Donald depended more on his sense of touch than his eyesight, in a case like this. He kept dropping, a yard or so at a time, with one leg twisted around the rope; and the other foot feeling for what he sought below.