Seizing the lasso, he measured the distance, swung once, twice, thrice around his head, and then let fly. The coil straightened out through the air. The noose descended over Jack’s upflung arm and trunk. His feet braced, Bob let the rope out gently, while Jack slid a matter of several feet more.
Thus Bob prevented too great strain being put upon the rope that might upset him, and also refrained from injuring his chum.
Jack came to rest, outstretched, one arm pinioned by the lasso, which passed beneath the other armpit. His feet were already over the edge of the precipice.
“Give me a hand, Frank, and you, Mr. Hampton,” panted Bob.
They sprang to obey.
Inch by inch at first, Jack was pulled back from the brink, until he was sufficiently far removed from it to warrant him in gaining his feet. Then he made his way, limping, helped by the steady tug on the rope, back to his comrades.
“Bob, you saved my life,” he said. “I won’t forget.”
Then he sat down weakly, and dropped his head to his hands.
“Here, Jack,” said his father, “take a sip of this. It will steady you,” and he set a flask to Jack’s lips.
Presently, Jack regained his feet, and with a shake, pulled himself together.