But he was in time to see Andy, breathless and nearly exhausted, come up with Jack when the other was not ten feet from the edge of the precipice.
Andy took no chances, and Don could have cheered as he saw him make a flying football tackle, catching Big Jack just above the ankles and throwing him heavily to the ground.
Fred arrived at that instant and sat down heavily on the big fellow's stomach.
As Don came up, Jack was just coming to his senses, his eyes indicating that he was not yet fully aware of where he was or of what had happened.
His first question indicated this, but no one was as yet sufficiently master of himself to answer. Fred merely waved a hand toward the cliff and the ocean below. Big Jack seemed slowly to comprehend. For an instant he buried his face in his hand. A shudder ran over his big frame. He looked again toward where the rocks fell off sheer to the water below, and then put out his hand.
All three grasped it at once. There was no need of words: all understood, and most of all, Big Jack.
Silently they arose, and, walking slowly because of Don's lameness, headed back toward the grove.
They were half way there before anyone spoke. It was Jack.
"Who discovered I was gone?" he asked.
Don answered that it was Andy. Big Jack simply nodded, but he placed upon Andy's shoulder a shaking hand which said more than words.