“Well?” shouted Dale, in a harsh, angry voice, his word sounding like a snarl.
“Can’t quite—can’t. Hah! I have it!”
“Hurrah!” burst out Saxe, giving vent in his homely, boyish way to his excitement.
Then, feeling ashamed of himself, he was silent and listened for every word.
“Get your arm right through, above the elbow.”
“Yes, herr. Right.”
“Pull, to tighten it.”
“Yes, herr,” came back.
“Ready? Sure it cannot slip?”
“It cuts right into my arm: never slip.”