“I’ll do more than that,” I said. “I’ll go down there and stuff a jacket under it. Give me a jacket, somebody.” I was feeling so happy I didn’t care what I said or did.
The fellows got beside a tree so that the rope went part way around the trunk. That way they could pass it out easily. We were sure of the rope, that was one thing. Hemp—you’ve got to go some to break that. That was no clothesline. Backyard ropes are all right, but not for scouts.
“Don’t take any chances,” Westy said. “Just look and see if it’s chafing on the edge.”
“If it is, tell me,” Pee-wee puffed out.
“Let it down slowly,” Warde called. “What are you waiting for? It’s all right down here.”
There were only two places where that rope could rub; those were on the top of the wall right near us and down on the edge of the shelf. We knew it was all right below that on account of what Warde had said. In both of those places the rope went over clumps of bushes and moss. No rope will stand rubbing all the time, but all we had to do was to let it down to the bottom and we knew it would stand that much rubbing.
So we just passed it out little by little and pretty soon it was slack. Then we could hear Warde calling from away down below.
“All right,” I shouted; “We’ll be down pretty soon. Take a rest.”
We tied the rope good and fast to the tree and then I said to Will and Dorry, “How far did you go when you started from here?”