"Below the bend. Get back there with a rope and be ready to toss it to him if he lets go."
Ned and his pony crashed through the brush. He had no spur with which to urge on the animal, but Ned had thoughtfully picked up a long, stout stick, and once more they drove straight at the high bank.
"Stop! I forbid it!" thundered the Professor.
Ned paid no more attention to him than had he not spoken. It was a time when words were useless. What was necessary was action and quick action at that.
"Hurry with that rope!" commanded Ned.
The pony slowed up as they approached the bank of the river, but Ned was in no mood for trifling now. He brought down the stick on the animal's hip with a terrific whack.
Bad-eye angered by the blow, squealed and leaped into the air with all four feet free of the ground.
"Hi-yi!" exclaimed the Pony Rider sharply, again smiting the animal while the latter was still in the air.
Ned's plan was to enter the stream at that point and swim down with the pony until they should have reached the boys and rescued them from their perilous position. While the bluff was sandy at the point where they had fallen in, down below, where Tad was now desperately clinging to the rock, the stream wound through a rocky cut, whose high sides were slippery and uncertain, especially in the darkness of the night.
Bad-eye needed no further goading to force him to do his master's bidding. With another squeal of protest the little animal plunged for the bank. No sooner had his forward feet reached over the edge of it than the treacherous sands gave way beneath them.