“I’m here, Roger darling! It’s Tavia,” she called. “If you have to let go I’ll catch you! I will if it kills us both!”
“He isn’t going to let go—he isn’t that kind of bad sport,” said Nat’s voice above her head. “I’ll grab you in a minute, kid. Can you slide along that branch a bit. That’s the idea. Take it easy, now.”
“I—I’ll try,” said Roger’s voice faintly, and Tavia heard a rustle among the leaves that told her the boy was doing his best to aid his rescuer.
“Ow, I’m slipping!” he yelled suddenly. “Catch me, Nat!”
Tavia felt a cold chill run up and down her spine at that frantic cry, but the next moment she was reassured.
“All right, old timer, I’ve got you,” said Nat’s voice. “Just grab hold of me now and we’ll be down on terra firma in a jiffy. That’s the kid! Ready now?”
“Y-yes,” came Roger’s unsteady response, and Tavia knew he was fighting off the tears of weariness and fright. “We ain’t very far from the ground, though, are we, Nat?”
“Not very far, old boy,” responded Nat jocularly. “Not half as far as if we were twice as far.”
Tavia heard Roger chuckle and blessed Nat for his quick tact. He had saved the small boy the humiliation of tears.
There was the sound of scrambling and sliding and Tavia saw Nat, one arm about Roger, hang from a sturdy lower branch, then drop to the ground.