"Great Scott! What's happened?" he cried, breathlessly. "Anybody hurt?"
Tom's reappearance was the signal for so many exclamations that his question passed without an answer.
"Safe and sound?" demanded Sam, whose voice and manner indicated that he was just beginning to get straightened out on the situation.
"You bet!"
"By Jupiter, that's simply great! The fall didn't hurt you, eh?"
"No; but it did the bushes, I can tell you—I ripped 'em up a bit. Landed on a ledge. Where's my gun? Gracious! That animal just missed me by a few feet when he went slipping by."
Bob gave Tom a hand, and helped him up the bank.
"I just about walked into that old codger," panted the lad. "Happened to look around, and saw his ugly face most pokin' me in the ribs. That would make anybody give a start, eh?"
"I wouldn't call it a 'start,' Tommy," grinned Sam; "I'd say a leap through space. How far did you roll?"
"About a hundred and twenty-five biscuit lengths. That's a pun, eh? Rolls and biscuits; and the last bump I got was a crackerjack. Think that cat is going to loaf around here waiting for us?"