The reply was a long-drawn-out howl.
“He is somewhere below us,” announced Tom. “Let us get further down. His being alive passes all comprehension.”
The Overlanders climbed down over the rocks, making all haste, all watching eagerly for a sight of the unfortunate Stacy. Now and then one of them would shout, and the answer that came back each time seemed nearer than before. At last Stacy’s voice sounded directly to the right of them. Grace focused her binoculars on a ribbon of green bushes in a crevice in the rocks below.
“I see him!” she cried. “He is just beyond the middle of those bushes.”
“Are you hurt?” called Tom Gray.
“I—I’m killed,” wailed the fat boy. “Get me out of this.”
“How long can you hold on?” demanded Elfreda.
“Until the bushes give way. Roots are loose now,” wailed Stacy. “You’ll have to hurry.”
“Get the ropes,” urged Grace.
“We can’t reach him with a rope from here,” answered Tom.