“I’ve got to make it!” he told himself, gritting his teeth. He refused to think of what might happen if he were to plunge into the roaring rapids below.
“Don’t let go, whatever you do!” Bob, on the rock, was holding the rope tightly, ready to pull his friend to safety if the latter should be forced to release his grip.
Joe swung across with a certain determination that was luckily with him in every emergency. He did not look below for fear of becoming frightened.
At last, when he felt that he could stand no more of this torture, the youth felt his foot touch rock, and he knew that he was safe.
“Hurrah!” cried Bob Holton, waving his arms in the air. “Now here I come.”
Bob would find the feat more difficult, since he was heavier than either of the two who had crossed. But usually when he set his mind on doing a thing he was able to do it.
But first he walked over to the mules, which had been tethered securely by Dr. Rander, and got out a stronger rope, which he tied around his waist and shoulders. A small weight he fixed at the other end, and then moved back to the edge of the rock.
“Here. Catch this,” he called, and threw the rope over to Joe on the other side of the river.
When everything was in readiness he slowly lowered himself until he could grasp the wire that stretched across the stream. Then, setting his nerves for the trying task, he let his feet drop.
For one awful minute Bob’s heart stood still. Then he got a grip on himself and swung easily across to the other side.