“Yeth, oh, yeth!  I’ll be good.  I’ll do whatever you tell me.  But thave me.  Pleathe thave me!” sobbed the unhappy little Tommy.

“Stop clawing.  Let your body hang limp.  Don’t make a move, and keep quiet.  You confuse us.  Remember, if you struggle you are likely to pull us over with you.  I am going to get something; then I shall try to pull you up.  Hazel and Margery, stay close to Miss Elting.  Miss Elting, will you look after them while I go to hunt a stick?"’

“Come over here by me, girls,” commanded the guardian in response to the request.  “Now, stand perfectly still.  Tommy’s life may depend upon your doing only what you are told.  A Meadow-Brook Girl is a sort of soldier, and a soldier is not a good soldier unless he can take and obey orders.”

Hazel was trembling a little, Margery a great deal, but the words of the guardian served to quiet and steady both girls.

Harriet came running toward them, carrying a round stick, a piece from a small sapling that the guide had picked up for firewood.  This she cautiously slipped under the rope at the edge of the shelf, prying the rope up a little in order to do so, thus sending Tommy into a fresh outburst of terror when she felt the added movement of the rope.

“Miss Elting, I think you had better manage the stick.  You are not likely to lose your presence of mind.  Hazel and Margery may help me pull Tommy up.  Be sure not to let the rope drag over the sharp edge of the stone, or we may lose her.”

Margery indulged in a fresh attack of shivering.  Hazel gripped her arm, whispering, “Brace up, dear!”

“Oh, I can—­n’t,” sobbed Margery.  “My knees won’t hold me up.”

“Now, girls,” called Harriet cheerily, “take hold of the rope, but be gentle about it.  Remember, a sharp jolt might be a serious thing for Tommy.  It might jerk Miss Elting over, too, so be very careful.  Now, Tommy, we are going to pull you up.  Don’t reach for the rock.  It won’t help you any to do so.  Just hang limp.  Try to imagine that you are a bag of meal and we are pulling you up for the muffins to-morrow morning.”

“Oh, I can’t laugh,” wailed Tommy.

“Then cry, if you wish, but don’t make a noise doing it.  Shed all the tears you wish to, but let them be silent tears.  Now then!”

Harriet stepped back, taking firm hold of the rope.  She was near the edge of the shelf, Hazel directly behind her, with Margery still farther back.

“When you are ready, Miss Elting!  Let us know when you wish a fresh hold.”  Harriet was perfectly calm outwardly.

“Ready!”

“All together!  One, two, three—­pull!  Steady; not so violently.  This is a small rope, and——­”

“Whoa!” interjected the guardian sharply.

“We are taking up the slack back here.  Good work for you girls,” encouraged the guide.

“What is it?  Oh, what is it?” screamed Tommy.