By that time the fellows were all undressing. Poor Pee-wee was so excited and nervous he just tore his shirt off.
“It’s too late,” Warde said—awful calm. “I’m slipping. These blamed weeds don’t hold. Don’t you fellows worry. Maybe I’ll land——”
We could see well enough that his head and shoulders were over the edge. It was just a case of one root coming up and his grabbing another one, and slipping a little each time. In about another half a minute he’d have only his legs to hold on with. I haven’t got much use for lifelines made of old clothes. They’re all right in stories but where there are a lot of knots fastening together different kinds of clothes, one knot is pretty sure to give way. The only kind of line we could make now was a pretty clumsy kind of a one and it would take us at least ten minutes to get it made.
By that time Warde would be....
CHAPTER XXX
A GOOD TURN
“There isn’t time to do this,” Westy said.