A difficult and dangerous task was before the boys, but none faltered. Bob’s lips were drawn tightly together.
“I’ll go first,” he announced, briefly. “My muscles are pretty strong. Ready! Grab my legs, Jack, and hold on tight.”
Without another word, Bob threw himself flat and worked his way slowly over to the edge. Jack hung to him with all his strength, and he, in turn, was held tightly by another. And thus the dangling human chain hung downward, and Bob’s waving arms approached the helpless prisoner.
Three feet—two feet—one foot—for an instant Bob closed his eyes. When he opened them again, Joe Preston was within reach.
“Quick, Joe,” he gasped. “Quick!”
But as Joe slowly raised himself to an upright position, he found that his strength was practically gone.
“I could never hold on, Bob,” he said, “never!”
“Don’t have to. Give me your wrists.”
Bob Somers’ sinewy hands closed around them with a grip that could not fail.
“Pull up, fellows,” he yelled.