Finally, sitting on the edge of the wall, she leaned forward and reached for the upper loop. Grasping the loop firmly with one hand and pressing the fingers of her other hand against the plaster, she stretched her foot toward the other loop. But when within an inch or two of it, she suddenly slipped off the wall.
She gasped in terror. Down she dropped. Her arm felt as if it surely would be pulled from its socket as the entire weight of her body jerked on it. Could she hang with one hand? What if the sudden jerk should pull the rope loose from the peg? Desperately she clung to the loop. Then, regaining her balance, she wrapped her legs around the rope. Slowly, carefully she slipped from knot to knot. [Four strong young arms caught her before her feet touched the floor of the balcony.]
“Oh, Jo! Jo! I thought you’d be killed, sure,” cried Florence, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I was so frightened!”
“I was so scared I shut my eyes tight to keep from seeing you killed,” added Peggy tremulously. “I hope that taught you a lesson and you’ll be satisfied to stay where you belong after this.”
“Girls, look at the spectators!” exclaimed Florence the next moment.
In the street, about thirty feet below, several peons had stopped to watch this unusual performance, while others were running to see what was going on.
After one hasty glance below Jo Ann fled into the office.
“Can’t you do anything here without an audience?” she asked a moment later in disgust.
“Not anything like that,” replied Florence. “I do hope they leave before Felipe sees them, or he’ll have the whole story in a few minutes.”
“Anyway, I’m glad I’m down here.” Jo Ann drew a sigh of relief. “I hope I never have to stay so long in such a hot place again.”