The car had come to rest upon a bed of waving pine boughs, while numerous branches rested caressingly over its rail. The floor, showered with needles, in places resembled a carpet of green.
“A slight lad like you should have no difficulty in reaching the ground.” The Major’s cool, collected voice broke the spell of fright which had held Willie Sloan in its grip.
“I think I can manage it, sir,” he said, in a low tone, as he kept himself in an upright position by holding on to the steel tubing.
“Of course you can.”
“I should call this one o’ the awkwardest positions a man were ever placed in,” grunted the engineer. “But still it could be a dozen times worse. The propellers ain’t even broke, Major, though they’re certainly caught tight enough in those branches.”
Immediately following this remark, Kindale proceeded to attach a heavy sand-bag to a rope ladder, and, with Major Carroll’s assistance, it was thrown over the side. Shifting it about, in order to find favorable openings, the men lowered away.
Boughs and masses of foliage were pushed aside by the weight of the sand-bag; twigs or small branches occasionally snapped. At length some obstruction caught the bag and held it fast.
“Can’t move it either up or down,” remarked Kindale, after several long and vigorous efforts. “Anyway, we’ll be able to climb a few yards nearer the earth. I’ll go first, Major.”
The engineer assured himself that the ladder was secure, then clambered over the side of the car.
It was an anxious moment to Willie Sloan. He watched Kindale swaying back and forth on his apparently frail support and descending cautiously toward the denser foliage below. Almost immediately his form was hidden, and only the sound of rustling leaves told of his steady progress toward the ground.