For the first twelve or fifteen feet the trunk of the fir afforded no good hold, but Jack swarmed up it, clinging to the rough bark and the stumps of a few broken branches. The spectators held their breath; but the worst was soon passed, and in a few seconds more he had gained the nest.
"There's nothing in it," he cried; "but there's a jolly good view up here, and, I say, if you want a good, high dive into the river, this is the place. Come on, Raymond; it's worth the fag."
"Oh, do come down!" exclaimed Helen. "It frightens me to watch you." She turned away, and began picking moon daisies, when suddenly an exclamation from Valentine caused her to turn round again.
"Hallo! what's the matter?"
Jack had just begun to slip down the bare trunk, but about a quarter way down he seemed to have stuck.
"My left foot's caught somehow," he said. "I can't get it free."
He twitched his leg, and endeavoured to regain the lower branches, but it was no good.
"Oh, do come down!" cried Helen, clasping her hands and turning pale. "Can't any one help him?"
Jack struggled vainly to free his foot.
"Look here," he said in a calm though strained tone, "my boot-lace is loose, and has got entangled with one of these knots; one of you chaps must come up and cut it free. Make haste, I can't hang on much longer."