Keeko nodded.
"I can help you fix the slings," she said eagerly.
"Sure."
The approval had its effect. Keeko set her teeth, and beat down her panic.
The minutes stretched out into the better part of half an hour before the sling was successfully adjusted about the tree-trunk. But at last Marcel stood up from his task and regarded the moose head swinging just beyond the face of the cliff. Then he followed Keeko's gaze, which was in the direction of the upstanding roots of the tree where they had been partially torn from their hold in the ground. It was only for a moment, however. He had no misgivings. Forthwith he divested himself of his pea-jacket and stood ready for the final task.
"What—what can I do now?"
Keeko's voice refused that steadiness which was its wont, and Marcel laughed.
"Do? Why just sit around and act audience while I do the balancing act. Guess that old moose is yearning for his place out there. He didn't figure on the honour, but—he's earned it."
And, despite her fears Keeko smiled at the boyishness of it all.
In a moment her breath was drawn sharply. Marcel was out on the log. He had passed from the cliff edge and was sitting astride of the trunk with his feet and calves gripping tight about it like a horseman on a bucking broncho. His progress was rapid. He lifted the sling and set it out at the full reach of his powerful arms, and then drew himself out after it.