But while they stared, a young pine-tree, perhaps a foot thick, which had been torn loose by the rocks and brought down by them, suddenly tumbled, root first, over a steep rock, a few feet in front of old Miller’s door. The leverage exerted by the lower portion of the stem threw the whole tree into a vertical position for an instant; then it caught the wind, tottered, and finally fell directly on the front of old Miller’s hut, crushing in the gable and a portion of the front door, and threatening the hut and its unfortunate occupant with immediate destruction.
A deep groan and many terrible oaths burst from the boys, and then, with one impulse, they rushed to the tree and attempted to move it; but it lay at an angle of about forty-five degrees from the horizontal, its roots heavy with dirt, on the ground in front of the door, and its top high in the air.
The boys could only lift the lower portion; but should they do so, then the hut would be entirely crushed by the full weight of the tree.
There was no window through which they could get Miller out, and there was no knowing how long the frail hut could resist the weight of the tree.
Suddenly a well-known voice was heard shouting:
“Keep your head level, Miller, old chap—we’ll hev you out of that in no time. Hurry up, somebody, and borrow the barkeeper’s ropes. While I’m cuttin’, throw a rope over the top, and when she commences to go, haul all together and suddenly, then ‘twill clear the hut.”
In an instant later the boys saw, by the bright moonlight, the captain, bareheaded, barefooted, with open shirt, standing on the tree directly over the crushed gable, and chopping with frantic rapidity.
“Hooray for cap’en!” shouted some one.
“Hooray!” replied the crowd, and a feeble “hooray” was heard from between the logs of old Miller’s hut.
Two or three men came hurrying back with the ropes, and one of them was dexterously thrown across a branch of the tree. Then the boys distributed themselves along both ends of the rope.