"There," said Bart, regretfully. "I told you we'd be too far off to do him any good."
He leaned out as far as he could without danger of falling, and the cat was still three feet at least from the tips of his outstretched fingers.
"Nothing doing," he ejaculated as he withdrew from his vain effort.
"There's just one chance," said Frank. "One of us fellows will have to hang out there head downward, his full length, while the rest grab him by the legs and hold on for dear life."
"That sounds easy if you say it quick," cut in Reddy. "But who's going to be the goat?"
"I am," said Frank, as he threw off his coat.
"Oh come now, Frank!" expostulated Tom. "That's taking too big a risk. I hate to see the poor brute go down, but his life isn't worth yours."
"Besides," put in Bart, "even if you got hold of Oliver he'd probably be so frightened that he'd claw your head off."
"Cut out the talk, fellows," said Frank. "Bart, you and Tom hold on to one leg while Reddy and Hal grab the other."
Two others of the group, Will Baxter and Dick Ormsby, joined the quartette of helpers, although with considerable inward quaking, for they felt that if anything happened to their comrade they would be in part responsible for not having forcibly detained him from such a risky undertaking.