Still considering whether or not to make the attempt, he suddenly heard the cheery voice of Tom Turk:
"Hold on hard, lad, and I'll be up there to help ye, in the tyin' of a square knot!"
"Make haste!" exclaimed Harry, "as I expect, every minute, that the branch I hold will give way."
"Ay, ay. Keep up a good heart. My climbin' days ain't quite over yet!"
As he spoke, Turk commenced rapidly ascending the tree, running up the trunk with the squirrel-like dexterity of a true sailor.
He had with him the end of the fallen rope, thrown over his shoulder.
In a short time, he was upon the brunch, just above the swinging form of his friend.
The latter's weight had nearly parted the branch, strips of which were already beginning to peel off.
"Make haste, Turk!" repeated the young man.
"Ay, ay, lad! here's the rope!" cried Turk, lowering to his friend the end, to which he had fastened a bowline hitch; "jest slip that over your head, and under one of your arms, and I'll have ye up in half a minute."