Adrian, left with the lad who was in such desperate straits, busied himself in looking around, in the vague hope of discovering some means for rendering “first aid to the injured.” He remembered seeing certain queer vines growing from fissures in the rocks in some places, and if one of these only happened to be within reaching distance it might prove valuable now.
Luck seemed to be with him, for what should he sight but an unusually thick specimen of this same vine not ten feet away.
Snatching out his sharp-edged hunting knife, which he always kept in prime condition, Adrian sprang over to where he had discovered this treasure.
“Oh! don’t leave me alone, Adrian!” shrieked the fat boy, piteously; for how was he to know what had caused the other to vanish from his agonized view?
But Adrian was already cutting away fiercely; and although the vine proved very tough, he had it hacked through in next to no time, such was the vigor he put into his work.
Then back he sprang, trailing the vine with him; and when he again thrust his eager face over the edge of the pit, doubtless that was the most delightful
vision poor alarmed Billie had ever seen in all his life.
“Oh! ain’t I glad you didn’t leave me, Adrian!” he cried, almost whimpering in his tremendous excitement.
“How are you holding out, Billie?” called the other.
“Only middling! It’s getting worse and worse every second,” replied the one who was hanging on so desperately below, some ten feet or more. “You see, I haven’t got much of a hold, and I don’t dare try and change my grip because if I once started going there’d be no stopping me. Is Donald coming back yet, Ad, tell me please?”