"Pardon me. I didn't mean to be rude. Only get Hazel out of the tree. She must have help at once. Go down and help Harriet lift her. I'll try to get her foot out of the crotch of the tree when you lift her off the limb. But be careful and don't lose your hold on her."
"If you will come here and support Hazel's shoulders I think I shall be able to do better by lifting her at the waist," suggested Harriet. "I am afraid you had better remain down there, Miss Elting," she called as the guardian made ready to climb the tree; "there isn't room for all of us. Besides, the tree might break. I don't know how strong these limbs really are. You might have one of the girls bring a blanket. There is one on top of the tree, but we can't get it."
Tommy climbed back to the trail, throwing a blanket down. In the meantime, Jane had got down and was supporting Hazel's head and shoulders. Harriet braced herself, back and feet, against the limbs of the tree, both arms about the waist of the imprisoned, unconscious girl. Janus was working cautiously at the captive foot.
"Raise her a little. Whoa! Hold her there."
It was not an easy task for the two girls to follow orders in that instance, but they did, their faces growing red under the strain. Hazel was moaning.
"Miss Elting; the smelling salts!" called Harriet.
The guardian passed them up, Jane grasping the bottle and placing it under Hazel's nostrils.
"Lift a little more. That's enough." Janus was working the ankle up a little at a time. "Can you hold her?"
"Yes. Tell us when you have freed the foot, please. You will have to steady her. Hold her feet together, if possible. That will make it easier for us. We mustn't drop her."
"One more lift and—whoa! It's free!"