A crashing through the underbrush sounded from above and three pale faces were gazing into his own.
"We'll save you," cried Dave Brandon. "Courage, old man!"
"Hurry," gasped Dick. Drops of perspiration stood out on his forehead, but Dave's voice cheered him.
"Lucky we brought a rope along," panted Dave. "Quick—make a noose—put it around me!"
Bob Somers had implicit confidence in Dave Brandon, and asked no questions. In a moment the noose was slipped over his sturdy shoulders and under his arms.
"Now pass the end around that tree," instructed Dave, hurriedly. "Hang on to it, Bob. Here, Jim, grab hold of my legs, and don't let go."
"Hurry up, fellows," came a cry from below.
"Courage, old boy," sang out Bob. "We're coming."
Dave threw himself flat on the ground and worked his way to the edge of the opening, then leaned far over.
Havens, with a firm grip on the stout boy's legs, twisted his arm around a convenient sapling.