Sam, who was seated astride the gnarled old limb, holding on tightly with both hands, turned his head slightly and then turned it back, staring straight down into the awful depths, as if fascinated by the scene below.
“Here, hi! Don’t sit staring there,” cried Joses. “Get back, man.”
Sam shook his head and seemed to cling the more tightly.
“Are you hurt, Sam?” cried Bart.
Sam shook his head.
“Why don’t you speak?” roared Joses, angrily. “Did the beasts claw you?”
Sam shook his head, but otherwise he remained motionless, and Bart and Joses went round to where the tree clung to the rocky soil, and stood gazing out at their companion and within some fifteen feet of where he clung.
“What’s the matter, Sam; why don’t you come back?” asked Bart.
The man responded with a low groan.
“He must be badly hurt, Joses,” exclaimed Bart. “What are we to do?”