He now gave the rope a mighty tug. A wild yell from the interior of the tent told that his effort had been successful. The freckle-faced boy now began pulling with all his might, hand over hand. Stacy Brown’s yells were loud and frightful. To his howls were added those of another voice. Stacy was sliding out from under the rear of the tent feet first, being dragged along on his back as Butler hauled in on the rope.
But Stacy was not alone. Instead of one boy there were two. One of Chunky’s feet and one of Ned Rector’s was fast in the loop. Tad had made a mistake and selected a foot from each of the two boys.
“Something’s got me!” bellowed Chunky. “Help, help!”
“It’s got me, too,” yelled Rector. “It’s got me by the foot.”
“Oh, wow, wow! Help, help!”
The two boys were fighting and clawing each other in their excitement. Chunky fastened a hand in the hair of his companion fetching 110away a handful. Ned retaliated by smiting Chunky on the nose. Then both grabbed hold of the tent wall as they slipped out from under it feet first. The tent swayed and threatened to collapse.
Walter Perkins was struggling about in the dark, shouting to know what had happened. Professor Zepplin roared out a similar inquiry and sprang from his bed of boughs. He fell out into the open in his haste, but the night was so dark that he was unable to make out a single object. He could hear the two boys yelling at the rear of their tent, struggling and fighting to free themselves from the grip on their ankles.
The hauling ceased suddenly. Ned reached down and freed his foot, the same movement freeing that of the fat boy.
At this juncture Tad Butler dashed out from the tent, to which he had run after having thrown the freed rope away.
“Here, here, what’s going on here?” he shouted.