A sigh that was almost a groan broke from Ralph as he saw the futility of his cast. It looked like the last chance to save the boy whose life depended on their reaching him quickly. It was out of the question to get out on the slender, swaying end of the trunk to which young Simmons was clinging. Not one of them but was too heavy to risk it. And, in the event of the trunk snapping, they knew only too well what would ensue. A brief struggle, and their comrade would be swept to the falls, from which he could not possibly emerge alive.
“We must save him!” panted Ralph, “but how—how?”
“The only way is to get the rope to him,” said the professor.
“And we can’t accomplish that unless—I think I can do it, professor,” broke off Ralph suddenly.
“What do you mean to do?”
“To straddle that log and get the rope out to him in that way.”
“Nonsense, it would not bear your weight even if you could balance on it.”
But Ralph begged so hard to be allowed to put his plan into execution that the professor was at last forced to give way and consent to his trying the perilous feat.
“But come back the instant you are convinced you are in danger,” he commanded; “remember, I am in charge of you boys.”
Ralph eagerly gave the required bond. Fastening the rope to his waist, he straddled the narrow trunk and gingerly began working himself forward toward his imperiled chum.