“Much needed,” said another.
“Help! Don’t stand around like a lot of addlepates!” shouted the Colonel, furiously.
Several feet of the bank, splashing into the water, had sent forth a succession of rollers. The victim’s dangling legs could find no support, and each instant, fearful that the branch might break, Colonel Ellison could only look at the dark, lapping water just below and anticipate the dreadful moment when he would be immersed.
It was certainly a strange spectacle in the moonlight to see the usually dignified Colonel dangling from the limb like a fish at the end of a line; and when the first moment of surprise and alarm had passed, several very suspicious gurgles came from the students.
Jack Lyons was the first to take action. The second tremendous blow from the Colonel’s fog-horn voice had scarcely ceased echoing, when, with a cheery, “Hang on tight, sir,” he jumped into the dory, quickly untied it, and paddled in Indian fashion toward the victim, whose feet were now almost touching the water.
“Hurry!” gasped Colonel Ellison, despairingly. “I can’t hold on much longer.”
“All right, sir!”
The boat glided beneath his feet.
“Be careful,” said Jack. “Steady—don’t let go till I say the word.”
He reached up, bore his weight upon the limb, and the Colonel’s feet soon rested upon the bottom of the boat.