“What do you mean—rattled?” he called.
I said, “Well, can’t you take a little advice? When you’re in the scouts you’ll learn that you can always hang on tighter with your eyes shut.”
We took off our stockings and tied them together but there was so much space needed for the knots that they made a line only about five feet long. So we tied a couple of our scout shirts on by the sleeves. Then Westy took hold of one end and I took hold of the other, and we pulled. It pulled out in one place and we fastened it again. It was a clumsy kind of a line and we didn’t know whether it would hold or not. But it was the only thing we could think of.
Then I called to Warde, “Don’t move till we tell you. Are you slipping?”
“Guess not,” he said.
“Don’t move even if you feel something on your back. We’re going to throw a line right near your hand.”
I grabbed the end stocking and wound it around my hand so it wouldn’t slip away. Then I threw the other end, the end with the shirts. It went over the edge of the shelf within about three feet of Warde’s arm.
“Don’t grab it yet,” I said. “Wait. Don’t let go.”